Out of doors; a selection of original articles on practical natural history

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PRACTICAL
NATURAL HISTORY.

By the Rev. J. G. Wood, M.A.

s. d.

Homes without Hands 14 0

Strange Dwellings, crown 8vo 7 6

Strange Dwellings, 4to 0 6

Bible Animals 14 0

Insects at Home 14 0

Insects Abroad 14 0

Out of Doors 7 6

London, LONGMANS & CO.

OUT OF DOORS:

A SELECTION OF ORIGINAL

ARTICLES ON PRACTICAL

NATURAL HISTORY.

BY THE

EEV. J. GK WOOD, M.A., F.L.S.

AUTHOR OF 'HOMES WITHOUT HANDS' 'BIBLE ANIMALS' 'INSECTS AT HOME'
'INSECTS ABROAD' ETC.

NEW EDITION.

LONDON:
LONG-MANS, GEE EN, AND CO.

1882.

All rights reserved.

LONDON : PRINTED BY

SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE
AND PAKLIAMENT STKEET

Stack

Annex

6

5W?
PREFACE.

THE PRESENT VOLUME is composed of a selection of
original articles on practical Natural History, which
have been contributed from time to time to various
periodicals, and are republished by the kind permis-
sion of the proprietors.

From London Society are taken ' A January Day
at Kegent's Park,' c The Children of the New Forest,'
' Turkey and Oysters,' and ' Our Eiver Harvests.' ' The
Home of a Naturalist ' is from the Cornhill Magazine,
and ' A Summer Walk through an English Lane '
and ' The Repose of Nature ' are from the St. James's
Magazine. Five essays were written in the Dark
Blue, namely, ' A Sand Quarry in Winter,' ' Under the
Bark,' 'Mrs. Coates's Bath,' 'A Blackberry Bush in
Autumn,' and ' De Monstris.' The articles on the

1117129

•vi PREFACE.

•' Wood Ant,' the ' Green Crab,' 'Medusa and her Locks,'
and e My Toads ' were contributed to Once a Week ;
and the two concluding essays, ' Life in the Ocean
Wave ' and ' Our Last Hippopotamus,' appeared in the
Daily Telegraph.

The reader will probably see that the first twelve
essays are arranged according to the seasons of the year,
beginning with a winter of activity, and ending with a
winter of repose.

CONTENTS.

PAGE

A JANUARY DAT AT REGENT'S PARK .... i

A SAND QUARRY IN WINTER 29

UNDER THE BARK 46

MBS. COATES'S BATH gi

A SUMMER WALK THROUGH AS ENGLISH LANE . . gi

THE WOOD ANT 115

THE GREEN CRAB . 126

MEDUSA AND HER LOCKS -136

MY TOADS 146

THE CHILDREN OF THE NEW FOREST . . . . -156

A BLACKBERRY BUSH IN AUTUMN . . -. . .181

THE REPOSE OF NATURE 199

TURKEY AND OYSTERS . . . . . . . 223

DE MONSTRIS 244

OUR RIVER HARVESTS ....... 260

THE HOME OF A NATURALIST . . . . . . 290

LIFE IN THE OCEAN WAVE . ..... . 319

OUR LAST HIPPOPOTAMUS 881

LIST OF ELLUSTEATIONS.

FULL PAGE.

STEALING A HIPPOPOTAMUS .

THE SAND QUARRY .

MRS. COATES'S BATH

CRABS Al HOME

NIGHT IN THE NEW FOREST .

MT BLACKBERRY BUSH

IN THE TEXT.

HATCHING-TROUGHS IN GREENHOUSES

HATCHING-PLATE ....

EGG, FRY, AND PARR .

OPEN-AIR TROUGHS ....

TRANSPORTING-BOX

frontispiece
to face p. 32
„ 80

n 123

,) 176

„ 192

p. 261
274

. 274

876

. 287

OUT OF DOORS.

A JANUARY DAY AT REGENT'S PARK.

HAVING always felt a strong interest in the economy of
animated nature, I was recently led by a casual conver-
sation to recall a visit paid to the Zoological Gardens
in the coldest part of a winter now long passed away,
and to reflect with some regret that the only remi-
niscences of that visit were a dim recollection of a polar
bear paddling in some half-frozen water, and a general
idea of ubiquitous straw. I therefore determined to
•watch for the first defined frost, and to renew my ac-
quaintance with the gardens as soon as the temperature
should be sufficiently severe for the purpose.

To the lover of all animated beings the sight could
not fail to be most interesting, considering the different
elements involved. "Within a comparatively narrow
space are assembled a variety of living creatures from
all parts of the world, forming a collection at present
unrivalled, and bidding fair to increase year by year.
From the frozen circle of the pole to the burning belt

B

2 OUT OF DOORS.

of the equator come representatives of the fauna of
every land, gathered together in the grounds of the Zoo-
logical Society like the beasts of old in the ark, though
happily with more space to move, and enjoying better
ventilation. Beasts, birds, reptiles, fishes, and even the
lowest forms of animal life, inhabit these wonderful
gardens, which contain very nearly eighteen hundred
specimens to be fed and tended daily, and to be placed
as nearly as possible in the same conditions which they
would have occupied in their native land.

Some of these creatures inhabit the lofty mountains,
while others pass an almost subterranean life in the
plains and valleys ; some require a warm and moist at-
mosphere, while others would die unless they could
breathe a cold and dry air ; one must live almost wholly
in water, while another would be injured even by a,
momentary immersion therein. Some animals, again,
are fierce, savage, and powerful, requiring heavy iron
bars and resolute keepers, while others are so soft and
gentle in their nature that they require to be tended
as carefully and watchfully as infants. Some are sullen
and morose, others are affectionate and cheerful ; some
are shy, others are familiar; and, in short, there i&
hardly a mental phase that does not find a representa-
tive in the creatures forming this collection.

In the matter of food, again, there is as great a
diversity as in climate or disposition.

The carnivora, whether furred, feathered, or scaled,
of course require animal food, which, again, is varied ta

A JANUARY DAT AT REGENTS PARK. 8

suit the particular species that need it : the lions and
their kin eating flesh meat ; the seals and others need-
ing fish ; and the snakes requiring living prey, such as
frogs, birds, rabbits, and similar creatures. As to the
variety of vegetable food which is needed to meet the
wants of the beasts and birds that live on herbs, leaves,
and seeds, it is too complicated for any detailed ac-
count. Add to all these elements the individual idio-
syncrasies of many valuable specimens, and some idea
may be formed of the labour involved in keeping such
an establishment in proper order.

Few persons have the least notion of the intellect,
perseverance, and watchfulness that are daily exercised
in this place, of the ready invention required to meet
sudden and unexpected difficulties, and the resolute
courage by which alone they can be overcome. Few
of the visitors who stroll leisurely from cage to cage
think of the exceeding benefit conferred on science by
this collection, and the valuable additions to zoological
knowledge that have been made through its means.

Many curious and disputed points in animal physi-
ology have been cleared up, which otherwise must
have been left to conjecture and theory, and the
pains taken about the needful experiments are as sur-
prising as they are generally unknown. In order to
ascertain but a single mooted point, a staff of observers
has been organised, relieving each other at regular in-
tervals, never quitting their posts for a single instant,
either day or night, and keeping their ceaseless watch

B 2

4 OUT OF DOORS.

lest at some unguarded moment the golden opportunity
might be lost, perhaps never to recur. Any one who
wishes to form an idea of the accuracy, perseverance,
and "watchfulness that are exercised on such occasions,
need but refer to the celebrated experiments conducted
by Professor Owen, in order to settle certain difficulties
in the development of the kangaroo.

In spite of all the care lavished upon this institu-
tion, winter is always an anxious period. Bearing,
therefore, all these and many other considerations in
my mind, it was with no small interest that I entered
the Zoological Gardens on Old Twelfth Day, Saturday
January 18th, 1862, the thermometer then indicating a
temperature of 24° Fahr., and a tolerably sharp breeze
blowing.

On casting a comprehensive glance at the various
enclosures, the first object that caught my eye was a
creature something like a grenadier's cap, or a lady's
muff set on end, reared against the bars of the enclosure,
and gently swaying its body backwards and forwards.
Presently it began to sidle along the bars, still standing
or sitting upright, and being rendered so indefinite in
shape, by intervening twigs, wires, and posts, that I
could not make it out at all. However, it soon turned
its odd, wise-visaged head, and all the Beaver sat con-
fessed. As the beaver is a North-American animal,
accustomed to brave the terrible winters of that climate,
and quite familiar with ice, I should not have troubled
myself about it, but for its movements and general de-

A JANUARY DAY AT REGENT'S PARK. 5

meanour partaking so largely of the absurd, and its
perfect contentment amid conditions that would seem
the very acme of discomfort to a human being. After
watching the inquisitive creature for some time, it was
easy to appreciate the veneration in which its intellec-
tual powers are, or were once, held by the noble savage
of North America, who would naturally reverence an
animal that could build a house far superior to his wig-
wam, and was clever enough to dam up a too shallow
stream, and to lay by a store of food for the winter —
two branches of social economy which the savage mind
would not have conceived, far less have executed.

Dripping with water which froze almost immediately
on touching the ground, and had already covered the
enclosure with spots and paths of ice, the beaver looked
as luxuriantly comfortable as a cat on a hearthrug, and
was enjoying himself amazingly. Sometimes he would
patter round his pond, his flat tail dragging behind him ;
then he would make for the water, flounce into the half-
frozen liquid with a splash that caused the nerves to
shudder in misplaced sympathy, make a great turmoil
with paws and tail, and then emerge, walk to the bars
with the water dropping from every hair, seat himself
on end, holding with his feet to the iron fence, and, with
a calmly inquisitive air, inspect the carriages passing
on the road, or the visitors who happened to approach
his home.

Good store of tree trunks and branches have been
considerately furnished to him, and the grooves on the

6 OUT OF DOORS.

wood, and the chips which strew the enclosure, are
convincing proofs that the kindness of his attendants
is not wasted, and that his teeth have been rightly ex-
ercised.

Near this animal is another of the same species,
not so large, and inhabiting quite a little enclosure
with a mere trough of water, transformed by the
united exertions of the animal and the frost into an
unpleasing compound of water, mud, ice, and chips.
The animal was mightily hard at work when I came to
its cage, carrying a bundle of straw in its mouth for
some time, washing it well, and then rearing the bundle
carefully against the angle of its den, and tucking it
down neatly with its paws. I thought it was playing
at building a dam.

It was evident that as far as the beaver was con-
cerned there was no cause for anxiety, and I therefore
passed on to see how the inhabitants of Southern Africa
were comporting themselves under the present circum-
stances.

As usual, the hippopotamus was enjoying himself in
his bath, rolling about and wallowing in the familiar
element in a lazily contented fashion, ever and anon
slowly submerging the whole of his unwieldy person
below the surface, with that remarkable power of
adaptability which permits such animals as the hip-
popotamus and elephant to rise and sink at will,
thus making themselves heavier or lighter than an equal
bulk of water without needing to expel or inspire air.

A JANUARY DAT AT REGENTS PARK. 7

This is a most interesting performance, especially to a
practical swimmer, and is probably achieved by com-
pressing the muscles of the chest so as to reduce the
bulk when the creature desires to sink, and allowing
itself to expand to its former dimensions when it wants
to rise.

The native habits of this huge animal are well ex-
hibited in the magnificent male specimen now in the
gardens, and it is curious to see how wonderfully the
creature is fitted for an aquatic existence. Heavy,
corpulent, and unwieldy as it appears on land, its legs
set so widely apart that when it walks in high grass the
limbs of each side make a separate path, leaving a ridge
of untrodden grass between them, it assumes quite
another aspect as soon as it enters the water, and, in the
easy playfulness and almost grace of its movements,
affords as great a contrast to its former clumsiness as
does the swan proudly sailing on the lake to the same
bird uncouthly waddling on the shore.

As the tank in the enclosure was so thickly covered
with ice that the animal might have practised sliding,
but would have found swimming next to impossible,
the hippopotamus was forced to content himself with
the small tank within his house, where the water
is kept at a moderate temperature by artificial means,
and the atmosphere is such as this delicate though
monstrous animal can breathe with safety. The atten-
dants are peculiarly careful of so valuable a creature,
and have made arrangements for cleansing its house

8 OUT OF DOOES.

without sending their charge into the outer air during
the operation.

The giraffes are nearly, if not quite, as delicate as
the hippopotamus, and are obliged to content them-
selves with gratifying their very inquisitive natures by
inspecting the visitors who occasionally pass through
their warm house, and would like to feed the graceful
and gentle creatures, were not all such attempts sternly
prohibited by the watchful guardians. It is rather
remarkable that within a yard or two of each other are
located specimens of animals which inhabit the same
land, and yet are as strongly contrasted in shape and
habit as if they came from opposite portions of the
globe.

The elands are well and comfortable, and appear to-
be tamer than was the case a few months ago. They
are able to withstand the weather better than the
hippopotamus and the giraffe, being, indeed, mighty
mountain climbers in their native land, and therefore
accustomed to a low temperature. I may here mention
that the healthy condition of these magnificent ante-
lopes, and the comparative ease with which they are
bred in this country, afford most gratifying encourage-
ment to the efforts now being made in many quarters
to acclimatize in our own land the useful and orna-
mental inhabitants of other parts of the world, and
show in a striking manner the national value of a
collection upon which so much time is spent, and to
which such stores of knowledge are cheerfully dedicated.

A JANUARY DAT AT REGENTS PARK. 9

The acquisition of a single new article of food,
whether animal or vegetable, is no slight boon to a
country, and it is almost impossible to exaggerate the
benefits that will accrue to this land if we can fairly
establish this splendid antelope as a denizen of our
parks or paddocks. When adult and well fed it is
as large as a prize ox ; its meat is of a peculiarly deli-
cate and piquant flavour ; its fat, a handbreadth thick,
is thought to surpass that of venison, while the marrow
is of such transcendent merit that a South African
hunter can hardly trust himself to think about it.
There are, of course, many difficulties in the way,
inasmuch as the animal has not yet become civilised,
and is apt to display an amount of irascibility that is
rather terrifying in an animal that wears horns as sharp
and powerful as those of an Andalusian bull, that can
leap a fence or chasm from which the boldest hunter
would recoil, and can charge down a precipitous hill
with the speed and sure foot of the chamois. Still it is
possible that in successive generations this evil temper
may be eliminated by careful management ; and it is
to be hoped that before the lapse of many years the
eland may be as common in our parks as the fallow
deer.

Nor is this the only creature which is being bred at
the Zoological Gardens with the intention of acclima-
tizing it. Among quadrupeds the bison of North
America and the kangaroo of Australia are among the
number of the intended denizens of this country, while-

10 OUT OF DOORS.

among the birds may be noticed a great number of
species belonging to the poultry and the pigeons, such
as the splendid curassows of tropical America, and the
large wonga-wonga pigeon of Australia. France and
England are uniting in the same great object by means
of their respective Societies of Acclimatization, and
should Europe be hereafter enriched with the valuable
beasts and birds that are now being gradually accus-
tomed to the conditions of a strange land, it is to be
hoped that posterity will not forget how deep a debt
of gratitude they owe to the Zoological Gardens of
London, the property of a private Society.

Desirous of seeing how the cold weather was borne
by the ostriches, I went to look at my old friends,
whom I found shut up in their houses, but very glad to
see me, and as desirous as ever of eating any object they
could snap up. The shining top of my pencil-case was
a wonderful object to these inquisitive and voracious
birds, and it was most absurd to see all the heads
bobbing up and down, the large brown eyes gleaming
with excitement, and the wide mouths opened and shut
with impatience, just because I was writing with a
pencil that had a glittering top.

The temperature was 45° Fahr. in this department,
and the ostriches and cassowaries were quite at their
ease, as probably was the apteryx ; but as the latter
bird was hidden, as usual, behind her bundle of straw,
and was in all likelihood fast asleep, her exact condition
could not be ascertained. There are plenty of odd

A JANUARY DAY AT REGENTS PARK 11

birds in these gardens, but the apteryx without doubt
is the oddest of all existing feathered bipeds. Wing-
less, tailless, thick-legged, long-beaked, and brown-
coated, she is about as queer a specimen of a bird as
can well be imagined ; and, as a climax to her eccen-
tricities of behaviour, persists, though a spinster apteryx
living in more than conventual celibacy, in laying enor-
mous eggs, each of which weighs one-fourth as much
as the parent bird. Several emus, however, were
trotting about in the open air, and were pecking here
and there at the grass, or poking their long necks over
the rails of the enclosure, as gaily as in the summer
months, though the ground was frozen to a strong
hardness, firm ice was at their feet, and the sounds of
boys sliding were heard just outside the fence.

There are, of course, far too many beasts and birds
in this collection to be separately examined, so I turned
my steps towards the tunnel, walking casually through
the parrot house, and dropping a word or two of
recognition to my garrulous acquaintances, and then
passing out to pay a visit to the piping crows of Aus-
tralia, who were chattering away in the open air, brisk
and saucy as ever, and always ready for a conversation.
One of them, the white-backed species, was singularly
lavish of his conversational powers, and engaged in a
contest of strength on the spot. First the bird
whistled a few wild notes, and then paused, while I did
the same. Twisting his head on one side, and looking
up knowingly with one eye, he waited for my lead, and

12 OUT OF DOORS.

imitated my whistle with wonderful fidelity. He got
quite excited at last, flew to his perch, thence to the
wires on a level with my face, clung firmly with his
strong claws, poked his beak through the interstices of
the intersections, and fairly screamed with exultation.
Meanwhile his companion was making the best of his
time by pecking my boots.

Pleasant as this amusement was, the hours were
passing, and the wind was chilly, so I bade farewell to
the piping crow, and cruelly left him, in spite of his
repeated attempts to recall me by screams and whistles.

Mag, in the next compartment, was cheerful
enough ; so were the ravens, with whom I exchanged a
friendly croak in passing, and allowed them their usual
bite at my pencil.

The elephant and the rhinoceros have been too
long residents to care much for the vicissitudes of an
English climate. The former was swinging itself from
side to side in his den with that peculiar movement
which seems instinctive to the creature, and may
possibly answer as a succedaneum for walking exercise.
The latter was serenely munching a truss or so of straw,
his nose in the air, slapping his lips together with
every sidelong movement of his mouth, while from his
big lungs issued an occasional grunt of satisfaction,
though certainly the substance which he was eating
seemed absurdly incapable of affording any nourishment
to the system, or gratification of the palate. None

A JANUARY DAY AT REGENTS PARK 18

of these animals are allowed to expose themselves to
the virulence of so frosty and inclement a day.

The reptile house is always kept at so uniform a
temperature that winter's cold or summer's heat makes
hardly any perceptible difference. The fine specimen
of the North African monitor was in a state of great
excitement, endeavouring apparently to climb up the
plate-glass front of his cage, and ever and anon falling
back ignominiously, only to resume the attempt with
renewed vigour. It was astonishing what a noise the
•creature made by scratching his claws and rubbing his
chin against the glass, and to what unexpected attitudes
his lithesome body and slender neck could be writhed.
The reptile was shedding its epidermis, which hung in
shreds and patches from different parts of the body,
showing the bright scales beneath as they were freed
from their effete covering. The creature was very per-
severing in his exercise, continually darting out his
long and deeply-cleft tongue, looking, indeed, as if it
had been furnished by nature with two slender pointed
tongues, and affording an admirable opportunity for
studying the arrangement of the beautiful spotted
scales on the lower surface of its body.

Its near neighbour, the rock snake, or pythoness,
as it is just now the fashion to call her, was not visible,
being, in fact, as well as could be expected under the
circumstances, and lying under her blanket, coiled like
a shallow cone around her new-born family of eighty or
ninety eggs. The chameleons were perched immoveably

14 OUT OF DOORS.

as usual on the branches with which the cage is plenti-
fully furnished, and gave no signs of life, except occa-
sionally turning one great green-pea of an eye upwards
or downwards, as the case might be. The African cobra
lay flat upon the floor of its cage, but on seeing a
human face, surmounted by a hat, coming close to the
glass, it became rapidly excited, spread its hood, puffed
out its body, and raised itself as if threatening an
attack. Not wishing to be the cause of a possible in-
jury to a valuable reptile by letting it strike its nose
against the glass, as it was evidently preparing to do, I
passed on to the bull frogs, and so out of the room.

In the next apartment the creatures were all doing
well. A single specimen of the flying fox survives,
though the keeper expressed himself as rather anxious
concerning its chance of getting through the winter.
That singular creature, the gigantic salamander, lay
impassive as usual along the bottom of its tank, and
though so remarkable an animal, attracts but little
notice from visitors. Hundreds pass through the room
daily without seeing it at all ; and of those who con-
descend to cast a glance at it, the greater number ex-
press themselves as sadly disappointed. The general
public has heard great tales of salamanders, and
through the medium of a weighty culinary instrument
bearing the same title has learned to connect the name
with fire and glowing metal. Reading the name of
gigantic salamander, they enter the room in a rather
nervous and uneasy state of mind, expecting to see

A JANUARY DAY AT REGENTS PARK. 15

nothing less than fourteen or fifteen feet long, and
hoping that the bars are strong enough to prevent it
breaking from prison. Great, therefore, is their dis-
appointment on being shown a glass tank of water
such as they see in any naturalist's window, and are
referred to a creature like a big black tadpole which
lies grovelling quietly in one corner. Some decline to
believe that the animal is the dreadful creature which
they have been led to expect, and others openly aver
that the whole affair is a delusion, and akin to Barnum's
mermaid. Yet the beast is a wonderful beast after all,
and in the eyes of naturalists is a very gigantic sala-
mander. For, in sooth, the eft or newt is a salamander,
and an eft of thirty inches in length is gigantic beyond
doubt. Besides, it is very rare even in Japan, whence
it comes, and its habits and general economy are very
remarkable.

Nearly opposite to this salamander is a creature of
unpretending form and dimensions, but still more
curious in its structure and habits than even its black,
flat-headed neighbour : this is the lepidosiren or mud-
fish of Africa, remarkable for having long been an
object of contention among naturalists. Is it a fish or
is it one of the frog tribe ? No one exactly knows, and,
to judge from the opposite opinions expressed by the
most accomplished naturalists and dissectors, no one is
likely to know. Perhaps it is neither, but represents
an intermediate class between the fish and the reptiles,
with the heart of one and the gills of the other. This

16 OUT OF DOORS.

specimen has lived for about three years in the tank
which it now occupies, and has grown, though slightly,
in that time ; thus affording a singular contrast to the
specimen at the Crystal Palace, which attained a length
of nearly a yard in the same time, though not nearly
so large when first brought to England. But then the
Crystal Palace animal got into the large hot-water
basin and there lived a despotic life, feeding ad libitum
on gold fish until he was captured and his depredations
stopped, and on frogs afterwards. Should the reader
pay a visit to the Zoological Gardens, as I trust soon
will be the case, let him look well at the mud-fish, the
Gordian knot of systematic zoology.

On my way to the lions I looked in at the wombat's
ca^e, and there saw to my surprise that the animal,
though a native of Australia, was lying curled up in
one corner of the enclosure fast asleep, with the ther-
mometer marking eight degrees below freezing point,
and the wind blowing in keen and cutting blasts. The
bars of the enclosure being open and of iron afforded no
protection whatever, but would rather have the effect
of chilling a creature that was pressed against them.
The seals were naturally indifferent to the cold, and
darted about in the water, or flounced their way over
the rim of their bath, as if enjoying the icy coldness of
their home. They ran some very good races after fish,
driving up the water before them like the bows of two
fast steam-boats, and had quite a struggle for the last
fish. The otter, too, cared nothing about the tempera-

A JANUARY DAY AT REGENTS PARK. 17

ture of the water, but sat on a heap of wet straw, eating
his dinner, with the end of his tail in the water, and
the freezing drops glittering around him. To the
shivering observer, whose chilled fingers could scarcely
hold the pencil, and whose heart yearned for a seat in
a warm room and a large cup of hot tea, the choice of
locality seemed singularly unfortunate. There, how-
ever, sat the animal, thoroughly contented with his
position, holding his flounder tightly between his paws,
and crunching and tugging with hearty goodwill.

The lions, tigers, and other large carnivora, are
carefully defended from the outer cold by means of
thick screens rigged from the eaves of the projecting
roofs to the bars beyond which visitors are requested
not to pass. As, however, the greater number of
visitors would be sadly disappointed if they had to go
away without seeing these beautiful animals, they are
admitted for the nonce into the space between the bars
and the cages ; and in order to prevent the fierce beasts
from thrusting out a paw and inflicting a wound,
either in sport or anger, a strong wire grating is affixed
to the front of the cage, which effectually prevents any
such mishap. Notwithstanding all these precautions,
and an assured conviction of the absolute security at-
tained, I could not help instinctively starting back
when the lion took it into his illogical head that I was
going to steal his meat, and flew at me with flaming
eyes and a roar that shook the place. I had much
respect afterwards for the steady nerve of those who

c

18 OUT OF DOORS.

can endure such a charge with a firm hand and un-
winking eye, and very much less contempt for the
native attendants who in such cases always throw away
their guns and run for their lives. The whole of these
dens are kept at a comfortable temperature by hot
pipes, and the animals seem as contented as in the hot
summer time.

Two lions, however, in neighbouring cages became
angry with each other, or perhaps jealous ; and putting
their mouths to the floor just by the wooden partition,
began to roar against each other to the utmost of their
power. It was a grand exhibition, and would alone have
been worth the trouble of the visit. The threatening
sounds seemed to reverberate through every nerve, the
whole building trembled as if shaken by rolling thunder,
and the rest of the beasts sank into respectful silence
while the kings of the forest lifted their mighty voices.
No wonder that at the sound of the lion's roar the
beasts of burden break their halters and flee in terror
over the plain ; but it is a wonder that the ostrich, the
meekest looking of birds, should roar so exactly like
the lion that even the native hunter cannot always
distinguish the one from the other.

As if intended to produce a striking contrast to the
lions, tigers, and leopards existing in a temporary hot-
house, and sheltered from the chilling blasts by a screen
erected expressly for the purpose, the polar bears live
within ten yards of these heated localities, rejoicing
in the cold, and probably thinking of the ice-fields and

A JANUARY DAY AT REGENTS PARK. 19

freezing waters of their proper borne. This is one of
the few northern animals whose fur retains its white
hue throughout its life, experiencing no change in
winter or summer. The coat of the ermine and the
arctic fox alters from its dark summer tints to its
snowy winter hue ; not, I imagine, to aid in conceal-
ment by assimilating the colour of the animal with
that of the ground, but because the pure white hue is
endowed with some wondrous power of resisting the
effects of cold.

I wonder whether polar bears when wild are in the
habit of taking exercise in the fashion in which these
specimens indulge ? Do they always walk forward for
six paces, and retire backwards over precisely the same
ground, with as much accuracy as if they had been
volunteer riflemen practising the back-step? It can
hardly be too troublesome for them to turn round, and
they have ample room for the purpose, being able
if they choose to indulge in quite a promenade, unre-
stricted by the narrow limits in which those unfor-
tunate lions and tigers are confined.

I pity those active and restless creatures with all
my heart. I wish they had more appropriate residences,
and am sure that if they were only permitted to ex-
ercise their limbs as intended by their Maker, they
would be healthier, live longer, and display their won-
derful powers in a more perfect manner. There are,
of course, some difficulties attendant upon the construc-
tion of an enclosure sufficiently large to give ample

c 2

20 OUT OF DOORS.

room to the agile limbs of the feline race, sufficiently
strong to withstand the fiercest assault of the lion, and
properly roofed so as to counteract the danger of a
leopard or jaguar climbing over its walls. I cannot
but think, however, that it would be quite practicable
to construct an enclosure that would comply with all
these requisitions, and at no very great outlay of space
or money. The enclosure might be common to all the
feline race, and each species might be allowed to exer-
cise in it in regular rotation. There would be no diffi-
culty in decoying them back to their dens, as a piece
of meat would effectually accomplish that design, and
allow of the door of communication being closed while
the animals were engaged upon their food.

The interior of the enclosure should be furnished
with artificial trees, and I have often pictured to my-
self the magnificent sight of a pair of lions or tigers
careering round their pleasure ground, exulting in their
strength, or a company of leopards disporting among
the branches, and displaying their lithe forms in all
their spotted beauty. Look, for example, at the
monkeys, and think how much we should have lost by
cooping them up in little boxes, where they could
hardly move, instead of giving them spacious apart-
ments, fitted with ropes, bars, and boughs, so as to
enable them to display their marvellous agility to our
wondering eyes. Sure am I that a lion, tiger, or
leopard, when permitted to range freely over an ample
space, would present as great a contrast to the same

A JANUARY DAY AT REGENTS PARK. 21

creature uneasily deambulating its narrow den, with
its head close to the bars, and its paws slipping over
the smooth wet boards, as does a monkey in a box to
the same animal in a spacious apartment, or a caged
squirrel to a scuggy in his native woods.

Both species of camel — the dromedary and the
double -humped camel of Bactria — were quite at their
ease about the weather. The former animal was stand-
ing partially in its shed, with its long neck and meek-
looking head peering out at the landscape, while the
latter was quietly walking about its enclosure, though
the ground must have been very uncomfortable to its
feet, and the water in its trough had been frozen so
hard that the attendant had been obliged to break the
ice, in order to allow the animal to drink.

The coypu rat seemed rather unwilling to face the
cold, though attracted by a large carrot that the keeper
had placed within its den. This odd, blunt-nosed,
orange-toothed quadruped only emerged at intervals,
ate a piece of carrot, and then returned to its warm
home. I remarked that the mice are very fond of the
coypu's house, and run in and out of the straw with
amusing impudence. The creature evidently dislikes
the ice, trying in vain to get its usual bath, and feeling
sadly disappointed at finding itself arrested by the icy
covering of its little pool. The reader is hereby ad-
vised to pull up a little tuft of grass by the roots, and
place it in the coypu's cage, for he cannot fail to be
amused by the clever and systematic manner in which

22 OUT OF DOORS.

the ingenious and cleanly animal picks up the grass,
takes it to the water, and washes it carefully before it
will condescend to nibble a single blade.

The honey-ratel, with his dark waistcoat and grey
coat, was in great force, running about his cage ii,
quite an excited fashion, and even climbing up the
wires as if to survey the prospect. In the summer
time of the year this animal has a habit of running
continually about its den in an oval-shaped course,
which is marked by the continual tread of the feet like
the sawdust in a circus. The oddest part of the per-
formance is that whenever it reaches either extremity
of its course it puts its head to the ground, turns a
somersault, and recommences its race. The fine speci-
men of that very fierce animal, called from its evil
temper the Tasmanian devil, was occasionally to be
seen in the open air, but it preferred the warm retreat
of its straw-sheltered shed.

The winter aviary, which is ingeniously constructed
so as to admit of glazed casements in addition to the
wires, is employed as the home of several valuable and
delicately constituted animals. In the central com-
partment is a remarkably fine specimen of that curious
animal popularly called the Tasmanian wolf, but which
really is not a wolf at all, but one of the marsupial tribe,
related to the opossum and their kin. The beautiful
pariamas thrive well ; and as they sat on their perch
with bent knees, and head sunk so deeply upon the
breast that the curious feathery crest that decorates the

A JANUARY DAY AT REGENTS PARK. 23

head was scarcely perceptible, they could hardly be re-
cognised as the same birds who stalk about their cages
with long and haughty strides, erect gait, and bold,
intelligent gaze. Perhaps, however, the most curious
inhabitants of this aviary are the crested eagles, fine,
handsome birds, notable for an erect tuft or plume of
black feathers upon their heads, not unlike the ostrich
plumes of a lady's court dress.

The last animals visited were our volatile friends
the monkeys, who seemed none the worse for the com-
paratively close quarters to which they are confined in
severe weather. The house is rather dark just now,
because the windows are thickly banked up with straw,
a precaution necessary lest the monkeys should be
chilled by coming in contact with the cold glass. The
temperature of the room is very comfortable, but not
unpleasantly warm, and is maintained by a partly open
stove or fireplace in the centre. I was sorry to miss
my dear old friend Sally, the spider-monkey, whose
gentle manners and wonderful length of limb I have
often admired. Agile as are all the monkey tribe,
Sally was certainly the most active I have yet seen in
this country, and her performances on the rope would
have put the combined efforts of a dozen Leotards or
Blondins to shame. I shall never forget her happiness
when dancing and swinging about on a clothes line in
a garden near Reading, the curious air with which
she contemplated the surrounding objects, and the look
of piteous entreaty with which she deprecated the order

24 OUT OF DOORS.

to leave her rope and return to her seat on the back
of a chair near the kitchen fire.

The funny little Capuciu monkey was as amusing as
ever with his nuts and pebble, using the latter in the
light of a hammer and smashing the nutshells with
wonderful certainty. The odd little creature has a
perfect passion for hammering, and had battered the
woodwork of his cage so severely that the keeper was
forced to take away the stone, and now lends it only
when it is wanted. Even the hard, angular shell of
the Brazil nut is broken by this clever little animal,
and the keeper told me that he — the monkey, to wit —
could hardly have a greater treat than to be given
a hammer and a board with a nail partly driven, so
that he might take the hammer and finish driving the
nail.

The great anubis baboon sat sulky and impassive on
his perch, his chin sunk on his breast, his limbs
gathered up into marvellously small compass, and his
toes holding tightly to the bars. Offerings of nuts and
other dainties failed to propitiate his frigid dignity ; and
it was not until the keeper spoke to him that he would
condescend to notice the gifts that were freely proffered.
Even after taking the nuts and pieces of cake, he just
put them in his mouth, ascended again to his perch,
and resumed his former misanthropical attitude. Large
store of straw is placed in his cage, and when evening
approaches he retires to the farther corner of the cage,
creeps into the heap of straw, and with hands and feet

A JANUARY DAY AT REGENTS PARK. 25

disposes it around him in such a manner that not a
vestige of his person can be seen.

In a large cage, where a number of the smaller
monkeys are congregated, the ruling power of the
establishment was evidently the huge white and black
cat, who lay calmly dozing among all the restless
quadrumana, supremely indifferent to their noisy
gambols. Even when a graceless monkey leaped on
her back from a perch, and was straightway assaulted
by one of his companions, the cat did not even open
her eyes, but lay purring, with her paws tucked com-
fortably under her chin, in utter unconcern. Pussy has
been used to monkeys for so long a time that she is
quite uncomfortable out of their presence, and cannot
endure being placed in the open air. The keeper
fetched her out of the cage to enable us to judge of her
weight, which is really wonderful for a cat of the
gentler sex, and hardly was she fairly on the ground,
and the door of the cage opened, than she leapt through
the aperture and resumed her former position.

No sooner did the shades of evening become per-
ceptible than the monkeys made arrangements for the
night, ceasing from their sports, and even allowing the
armadillo to run about the cage according to its
pleasure, without jumping on its back for a ride, or
trying to pull it over as it trotted past them. They
congregate together in compact bodies, presenting
a most absurd effect of parti-coloured fur, inter-
twined limbs, and long dangling tails, and were con-

26 OUT OF DOORS.

tinually struggling for the snuggest and warmest spot,
which was, of course, the centre of the group. One
individual was totally excluded, but he took the matter
in a philosophical light, going carefully over the cage
and picking up all the little bits of biscuit and stray
nuts which his companions had relinquished when
battling for a place on the perch.

Throughout the whole of the visit it was pleasant
to denote the demeanour of the attendants, upon
whose sympathetic kindness depends so much of the
comfort and happiness of the animals under their
charge, and the manner in which they accommodate
themselves to the individual idiosyncrasies of their
charges. Should the animal happen to be docile and
intelligent, no one is more proud than the keeper,
and no visitor can be more interested in seeing
the clever performances of any creature than is the
keeper in exhibiting them. It was pleasant, for
example, to see the two splendid chetahs' behaviour
towards their attendant, and ludicrous enough to
watch him coolly sweep either individual out of his way
with the broom if they happened to interfere with his
movements while cleaning their cage. If they had
been a pair of three months' old kittens there could
not have been more confidence on the one side or play-
fulness on the other. As the keeper left the cage, the
gentle and beautiful creatures pressed after him, but
were gently put back with one hand while he took
down some meat with the other. Even under such

A JANUARY DAY AT REGENTS PARK. 27

exciting circumstances, with their dinners in their sight,
they displayed none of the fierce eagerness so common
among the feline race when they see or smell their
food, and they took the meat with even less haste than
my own pet cat exhibits when the food is to his taste,
and he happens to feel hungry.

Should, however, the animal be of a vicious and
impracticable disposition, the keeper only seems to be
amused at the various exhibitions of cross-grained
temper, and laughs good-humouredly at every growl,
or attempted assault.

Perhaps the reader may have remarked in the
course of this slight sketch of a very wide subject, the
apparent absence of all rule regarding the capability of
any animal to resist the effects of cold weather and a
strange climate. It is easy enough to understand
that the beaver and the polar bear could be quite
happy on a frosty day, and that the lions, tigers, and
leopards would need protection against the chilling
atmosphere. But it was hardly to be expected that the
camel, which is essentially the 'ship of the desert,'
made to endure long thirst and to pace for weeks over
the burning sand, should walk about quite at its ease
upon frozen soil, and drink from a trough in which
the ice was thickly gathered. This phenomenon will
perhaps give some idea of the difficulties attendant
upon acclimatizing the denizen of a strange soil, inas-
much as it is quite impossible to treat one animal on
a system derived from the management of another

28 OUT OF DOORS.

species from the same country and with similar habits.
Each new species must be learned by means of repeated
and cautious experiments, and to the minds of thought-
ful lovers of nature, and observers of animal life, this
very want of uniformity affords a better hope of ulti-
mate success than if it were possible to reduce the
management of foreign animals to a rigid system, and
treat all creatures of kindred forms and similar
countries on the same stereotyped principles.

A SAND QUARRY IN WINTER.

THE end of November, 1872, 6.30 A.M. Wet, wet, wet !
Thermometer 34 deg. A fierce wind blowing some-
where from the northwards, howling and shrieking
through the trees, and, as can be seen even at that
hour, tearing off the leaves that still keep their hold
on the branches, whirling them high in air, and mixing
them with the already fallen leaves which have been
swept up from the ground, and tower upwards in spiral
eddies before they again drop to the earth. No moon :
the sun is not due yet, but he is trying hard to drive a
few pale, watery beams through the dull, leaden,
black-patched canopy which does duty for a sky ; and,
as the eye becomes more accustomed to the semi-dark-
ness, a few large snow-flakes are seen here and there
amid all the flying leaves. The sash is opened for a
better glance of the sky, and in rushes the triumphant
wind, sending all my papers flying helter-skelter about
the room, and causing great confusion among the
multitudinous savage weapons, implements, and orna-
ments with which the walls are covered.

The house is situated on the top of the hill, so that

80 OUT OP DOORS.

the wind does pretty well as it likes, especially at this
time of year when the foliage is off the protecting belt
of trees in front, and nothing is left but their bare
branches. Clearly, this is a day for home-work, for
avoidance of the elements, and for cheerful fires in de-
fiance of the colliers.

A letter from the editor, urgently requesting an
article at once, because the magazine has to go to
press so early in November. I had looked forward to
a nice bright December day for this task — one of the
many wintry days when the sun shines clearly, though
coldly ; when the sky is blue, when scarcely but the
slightest breeze is perceptible, and when the exhilarating,
bracing atmosphere almost takes away the sense of
cold. Moreover, I had intended to write an article
entitled, ' Under the Ground,' as a companion to ' Under
the Bark,' but the perpetual rains of the last two or
three months have rendered such a task all but useless.
There are hundreds of insects which pass their winter
time some few inches below the surface of the earth,
and I had thought of taking a limited area, digging it
carefully, and jotting down the results; but there is
nothing which does so much damage to most insects as
wet. Cold they can bear well enough, provided they
are not exposed directly to the elements, but wet is
more than they can endure, and fairly drowns them,
and it is for that reason that insects are often so rare
after a very wet autumn.

Surely no one could be expected to go out in such

A SAND QUARRY IN WINTER. 81

weather and dig for insects ; and if he were rash enough
to do so, the chances are that no sooner did he uncover
an insect than it would be blown far out of his reach.
At last I bethought myself of a small, sheltered sand
quarry, about half a mile from my house, and, taking
with me the old familiar butcher's knife in its sheath,
and some boxes, I started for the quarry.

When I visited the place in July last, it was a most
lovely little spot, clothed with abundant verdure, rich in
the sweet flowers of glorious summer, and musical with
the twitter of joyous birds and the hum of many insects.
The sky was serene and calm, with a few white clouds
drifting slowly across • its azure expanse, and sending
their shadows travelling over the plain below. The
Thames ran, a meandering blue streak, glittering here
and there as the sunbeams glanced on its ripples, and
bearing many a white sail and swift steamer through
the valley over which it had once spread itself like a
shallow lake until restrained within its limits by the
mighty ' river-wall,' on which the seaweed dangles in
black and green clusters.

Now, how changed is all the scene ! The quarry
itself is tolerably sheltered, but above our heads the
wind tears its way through the wood, and speeds over
the country as if it meant to twist every tree up by
the roots. Every now and then, as some fiercer gust
passes along, a loud ruffling sound is heard, accom-
panied by a pattering as of hail, among the withered
leaves that strew the ground. At first, indeed, I took

32 OUT OF DOORS.

it to be really hail, but presently found that it was
caused by the little hard seeds of the broom, which
clung somewhat loosely to their opened and twisted
pods, and were shaken out by the wind. All the broom
trees above had lost their seeds long ago, but these still
survived in that partly sheltered spot. The rustling
sound was produced by a young sycamore tree. All
the leaves had been blown off it except one large leaf
at the end of each twig. These clung pertinaciously
to their hold, and the noise which they made was
really wonderful.

No longer bright and glittering, the Thames, a dull
grey stream, 'reflected the dull grey and leaden sky,
through which no ray of sunshine could pass, and over
which the black snow clouds sped with ominous rapidity.
Not a sail visible, and only an occasional empty screw-
collier, very much down at the stern with the weight
of her engines, and her ( nose tip-tilted ' as if disgusted
with things in general. Far away on either side lie
the marshes as they are still called — 'the meshes' ac-
cording to aboriginal pronunciation — and on the left
is the identical ' mesh ' where Pip encountered his
grateful convict, and nearly met his death in the hut
by the lime kiln. Not many years ago the bittern
haunted these marshes, but its weird, booming cry has
ne^er been heard since the marshes were drained and
cultivated. For all that may be seen now the bittern
might yet be there, and a more forlorn-looking place
can hardly be imagined than that dim, misty expanse

A SAND QUARRY IN WINTER. 33

with the river winding through it, and closed in the
distance by the black, tree-topped Essex hills.

As to the wind, it seems scarcely to have made up
its mind what to do, or by what name it was to be
called, whether Boreas, Septembrio, or Thracias. It is
only determined on two points — the one that the north
should be the leading element, and the other that it
had to blow its hardest.

It is quite a relief to turn into the quarry, as into
harbour out of a rough sea, and to be free from that
bitter, searching wind which takes away the breath
when faced, and, when the back is turned, seems to
force its way through all apparel as easily as if the
thick overcoat were little more than chain armour.
Here in the quarry, what a change is there ! A few
flowers still linger in this sheltered spot. The yellow
ragwort is plentiful, and a few purple mallow flowers
are visible among the green leaves. The soil, however,
does not seem to be kindly for mallow, as the leaves,
though numerous, are scarcely larger than penny-
pieces ; the plant crouches closely to the ground, and
the flowers, instead of flaunting some three feet in the
air, upborne by a stem like a walking-stick, are nestled
among the leaves, and almost hidden by them. Richer
colouring than the mallow is, however, there. The
entrance to the quarry opens into ' Ragged Robin
Lane,'' and there, on the spot where the southern sun-
beams can warm and the north wind cannot touch, is
Ragged Robin himself, with just one or two rosy flowers

D

34 OUT OF DOORS.

yet unfaded. I suppose that the flower has held its
own because, owing to its situation, nearly at the foot
of a hill, the bottom of the quarry is always moist, and
whatever warmth there may be it is sure to get. And
in the middle of the quarry stands a solitary oat plant,
tall, fair, and strong, its leaves broad and healthy, and
its graceful pendulous spikelets waving gently in the
slight breeze that can find its way into the quarry.

Thick and dark lie the fallen leaves, coloured with
the yet unfaded reds and browns and yellows of autumn.
Without moving I can note sycamore, maple, oak,
Spanish chestnut, horse chestnut, beech, birch, elm,
and ash. It is worthy of notice to remark how capri-
cious are the trees in retaining or parting with their
leafage, and how, when two trees of the same species
stand near each other, one will be entirely bare, while
the other will be half clad with fairly green leaves.
This difference is evidently to be attributed to the
particular soil into which the chief roots of the tree
have penetrated.

The soil in this spot is exceedingly varied, all sorts
of strata turning up close to each other. For example,
the eastern and southern sides of this quarry are soft,
friable sand, whereas the western side is rough con-
glomerate. Of the latter material, indeed, our hill is
mostly composed. It is very healthy, no doubt, and
has the advantage of creating scarcely any mud, so that,
even after a long and steady rain, a lady can safely walk
in the roads, provided that her boots be reasonably
stout.

A SAND QUARRY IN WINTER. 35

Still it has its disadvantages. The ground does
well enough for trees and even shrubs, but it renders
floriculture a heart-breaking business. Only the thin-
nest and poorest layer of soil lies on it, and even if
abundant mould be added, the first heavy rain washes
it all away, and a fine crop of loose stones comes to the
surface. As for turf, it will not live on such a soil,
but becomes covered with moss, and gradually dies off.
After some ten years' experience, I have at last induced
a lawn to exist ; but then I had to dig away some
eighteen inches of rubbish, put down a layer of good
soil, than a thick layer of chalk, and then another of
marl. Chalk absorbs water like a sponge, so that it
retains the water which otherwise would have run to
waste, and gives it out slowly to the roots of the grass
in the dry weather.

Another disadvantage of such a soil is the abundance
of pebbles, varying in size from a cherry to a plum, and
nicely rounded for throwing. Consequently the boys,
with whom this place abounds, and who, boy-like, are
mostly at war with each other, and always with the
rest of mankind, find themselves amply provided with
weapons ready to hand. In the autumn, when the
chestnuts are ripe, it is scarcely safe to turn a corner,
or even to go near one, so perpetual is the fire that is
kept up at the trees and between rival parties of boys.

The perpendicular sides of the quarry show this
arrangement of strata very plainly. It is curious to
see how the roots of the trees have restricted them-

D 2

gg OUT OF DOORS.

selves to the shallow stratum of soil, so that they run
almost horizontally. As the rain and wind beat away
the upper portion of the quarry, the earth falls away
from the roots, which hang down, waving loosely in the
air ; so when the strong wind attacks them they lash
about like whips, and cut large semicircular grooves in
the sand-wall against which they are blown.

Some trees seem to be little affected by this falling
away of the soil. The elder, for example, retains its
leaves bravely, and in one part has formed quite a
rampart against the wind ; so does the blackberry ;
while the elms are entirely stripped, the rooks' nests
coming out black against the grey sky, whilst even the
oaks have parted with their leaves, contrary to their
usual custom of keeping them, though withered, until
they are pushed off by the young foliage of the follow-
ing spring.

In July last, among the many insects which
thronged the quarry, I was greatly struck with the
number of sand-boring and parasitic insects that
buzzed about its eastern face, and so thought that such
a day as this would afford a good opportunity for
digging into the bank and seeing what the insects had
done.

Even the face of the quarry has undergone a great
change since July, not by the hand of man, but by
natural means. The rains of many consecutive weeks
have been dashed against it, run down it, and cut it
into multitudinous meandering channels, while at the

A SAND QUARRY IN WINTER. 37

bottom of the quarry is a large heap of mud, composed
of the soil and sand -which have been washed down.
Indeed, the view of the quarry showed admirably, on
a small scale, how vast a work water does in changing
the face of the earth. The strangest point about this
channelled surface was the formation of numerous
stalactites and stalagmites. A stalactite of sand seems
rather a strange thing, but there they are and plenty
of them. They are, of course, but small, only a few
inches in length ; but size goes for very little in
Nature, and, when compared with the area of the whole
globe, there is not very much difference between six
inches and six feet. They fall to pieces at the slightest
touch of the finger, and yet remain unhurt while the
tempestuous wind is roaring above, and the air is full
of heavy rain, whirling leaves, and bits of dry branches.

A portion of the eastern face has escaped rather
better than the rest, and to that I directed my atten-
tion. It was literally covered with burrows, varying
in size from eighteen inches to the eighth of an inch
in diameter. The small burrows are evidently owing
to the insects which were so plentiful in the summer.
Chief among them were the Kentish bee (Andrena
pilipes), a very local insect, hardly to be found in any
other county of England except that from which it
takes its name ; the Sand-wasps (Crabro and Odynerus},
and the lovely Euby-tail flies (Chrysis}, about all of
whom we shall presently learn something.

The largest is that of a fox, and a very clever con-

38 OUT OF DOORS.

trivance it is. After much search on the hill from
which the quarry is cut, I found the other opening of
the burrow. It is situated on the side of the hill,
shaded by grass and bracken, and is so carefully con-
cealed that, although I knew it must be situated
within a limited area, I had some difficulty in finding
it. Should the fox be run to earth, he would take
refuge in this burrow, crawl by its means through the
.hill, slip down the face of the quarry, and be off to
some other place of concealment. There are plenty of
rabbit burrows ; two of which are so close to each other
as to bear a curious resemblance to the Thames Tunnel,
especially as the rain has washed away the sand around
them, so as to form a sort of arched recess, in which
the two openings are seen side by side. Above them,
and not far beneath the layer of soil, are a number of
the sand-martin's burrows, now of course deserted, their
inhabitants being in climates where they are certainly
warmer, and, I hope, drier, than they would be here.

There are one or two mouse-holes ; but these are of
no consequence, and we proceed to those of the insects.
First in size comes that of the Kentish bee. It is really
a curious little insect. It bores horizontal tunnels
some seven or eight inches in depth, each tunnel being
about large enough to admit a common drawing-pencil.
The insect itself would scarcely be recognised by those
who had only seen specimens in a cabinet. Such
specimens appear in their natural colours, i.e., entirely
black, while the bee, as it flies to its burrow, is entirely

A SAND QUARRY IN WINTER* 39

white. The fact is that in its state of grubdom the
young bee feeds on the pollen of the thistle. The
mother bee, after finishing her burrow, goes off to the
fields, carrying away a quantity of the required pollen,
and places it at the end of the burrow, together with
the egg from which the future bee will emerge. The
pollen being quite white, the bee is covered with it,
just as a miller is covered with flour, so that she is
quite metamorphosed for the time.

The sand being soft can easily be cut away with the
knife, and, a grass-stem having been previously intro-
duced into the burrow, there is no great difficulty in
tracing it to the end. Sometimes, however, a large
piece of sand breaks away and falls, carrying with it
the whole of the burrow together with the grass-stem.
At the end of the burrow may be found, at the proper
time of year, the cocoon containing the bee-grub, and
if it be carefully removed and placed in a box, the bee
itself will make its appearance in due time. I have
hatched out plenty of Kentish bees in this way. Al-
though so local, it is a very common insect in this part
of the country, where the soil is favourable. I am quite
sure that, contrary to the habits of most insects, the
Kentish bee has vastly increased in numbers since Kent
was brought into the high state of cultivation which
distinguishes the ' Garden of England.'

Before man brought his hand to bear upon the soil,
the Kentish bee must have been sorely troubled to find
a suitable place for its burrows. Sand very seldom

40 OUT OF DOORS.

forms itself into natural banks, and it is very rarely the
case that a gulf is cut through the sand by the action
of water, so as to leave a perpendicular bank on either
side. Now, as the Kentish bee makes horizontal and
not vertical burrows, it is evident that in the days when
England was in the hands of savages, who made no
roads and built no houses, the Kentish bee must have
been much fewer in numbers. But, now-a-days, roads
are cut through the sand-hills, and the sides of the
cutting are filled with the bees' burrows. Sand, too, is
urgently wanted both for building and agricultural
purposes, and consequently almost every sand-hill has
its quarry. It is most interesting in the bright summer
time to watch these places, and see the white throng of
Kentish bees flying into and out of their burrows, and
making the air musical with their busy hum.

In the particular quarry of which I am writing, the
Kentish bee has restricted itself to the upper portion
of the sand, so that its tunnels cannot be reached with-
out much difficulty. The lower part is occupied by the
small burrows of the sand-wasp, which are placed so
closely together that the face of the quarry looks very
much as if it had sustained a series of volleys of No. 7
shot. Not exactly so, as we shall see, for in one place
there actually is a group of shot-holes round the
entrance of a rabbit-burrow, the gun having evidently
been fired at the animal as it was making its escape.
Shot-holes differ from those of the sand-wasps in this
respect. The latter are quite circular, and their

A SAXD QUARRY IN WINTER. 41

entrance is no larger than the diameter of the burrow
itself, while the former are irregularly conical, the blow
of the shot having always broken away a quantity of
friable sand. Not a single shot remains in any of the
many holes, the heavy leaden pellets having all rolled
out of their conical beds.

To trace up the burrow of the sand-wasp is a diffi-
cult task. I find that the best plan is to select a spot
about a foot square, in which the burrows are very
numerous, and then to pare away the sand in thin slices*
If this be done neatly and carefully, the whole of the
burrow can be laid down open from mouth to end*
Mostly they run horizontally, like those of the Kentish
bee, being driven at right angles to the face of the
sand-bank, but some of them make a sudden curve,
when they have gone a few inches into the sand, run
for a little distance parallel with the quarry face, and
then resume their former direction.

Suddenly we come upon a small lump of something
black and fluffy, looking much as if a small pinch of
black cloth teasings had been rolled into a little cylin-
der and pushed to the bottom of the tunnel. We care-
fully get it out with the point of a penknife, and slip
it into a box, so as to prevent it from being blown away
by the wind. Presently another and another of the
black lumps is discovered and transferred to the box.
Presently we come to another lump, which is pale
brown instead of black, and place it with the others.
Now, having preserved as many specimens as are

42 OUT OF DOOES.

wanted, we make our way homeward through the lain
and wind, and proceed to the microscope, in order to
ascertain the precise character of the fluffy lumps taken
from the burrows.

The day is much too dull and dismal to afford
sufficient illumination, so the lamp is lighted, and one
of the black objects placed under the half-inch glass.
The first glance detects its nature. It is composed
entirely of fragments of little flies. Black, shining
bodies, heads, and severed wings are clustered thickly
together, the wings shining out in every colour of the
rainbow, amid the debris with which they are sur-
rounded. The sand-grains look like lumps of sugar-
candy, the withered, red-brown eyes still show their
thousands of hexagonal lenses, the black, hairy legs and
fragments of bodies lie about in utter confusion, while
the wings, though broken from the body and mixed
with sand and all kinds of miscellaneous rubbish, flash
and glitter in ripples of crimson, green, gold, and
azure. Gauzy and delicate as they are, they have sur-
vived the body to which they were once attached, and
have not lost one whit of their former beauty. One
fly presents a very curious aspect. It is a little black,
round-headed fly, quite shrivelled up and withered. It
has lost all its legs, but it retains its wings, and adheres
to the general mass by the very tips of those organs,
projecting itself forward, and looking like a tiny black
imp sustained on bright, glittering, many-coloured
wings that would do credit to a fairy. Altogether,

A SAND QUARRY IN WINTER. 48

one of these insect masses reminds me much of the
4 pellets ' which are found so abundantly in owls' nests,
and which are composed of the skin, bones, and teeth
of mice, and the hard limbs and wing-cases of beetles.

The black lumps are all composed of the same
materials, so we pass to one of the brown masses. No
opalescent patches of colour betray the presence of
wings, but projecting from it on every side are long,
crooked legs, covered with sharp, brown, curved spikes,
showing in a moment that they are the legs of spiders.
All these brown masses are alike ; the spiders are ap-
parently of the same species, and all nearly the same
size. After examining a considerable number of speci-
mens, I can only find two materials for these masses,
namely, spiders and flies, and in no instance is there a
spider among the flies, or a fly among the spiders. Now
why were these creatures buried in the bottom of these
tunnels, and why are they so shrivelled and dismem-
bered ? They were placed there by the sand-wasp as
food for her future young, just as the Kentish bee
stores her burrow with pollen. Sand- wasps in all their
stages of existence are carnivorous, and so it is neces-
sary to supply the young with the appropriate animal
food.

There are very many species of sand-wasps, and each
chooses some particular insect as food for its young.
Many prefer flies, some furnish their young with aphides,
and others choose beetles. Even the little hard-bodied
turnip-beetles (turnip-fleas, as they are often called, on

44 OUT OF DOORS.

account of their small size and powers of jumping) are
used for this purpose. How the little sand-wasp grub
manages to eat them is more than I know, but perhaps
the hard integuments may be softened by the damp of
the burrow. This, however, is merely conjecture.

There is yet one insect to be accounted for. I have
already mentioned the ruby-tail flies that in July were
flitting so anxiously over the face of the quarry, their
burnished crimson and blue mail flashing in the sun-
beams like living jewellery. They were on a somewhat
similar errand to that of the bees and wasps, but they
carry it out in a different manner. They are parasites
on the sand-wasps, and just as the sand-wasp grub eats
the flies, so the larva of the ruby-tail eats both the
sand-wasp grub and all its store of food. From ob-
servations that have been made on the habits of these
insects, the larva seems at first to suck, rather than to
eat, the unfortunate grub on which it feeds; but,
having extracted nearly all the juices, proceeds to de-
vour the other portions of the body.

The mother ruby-tail is wonderfully persevering in
her attempts to insert an egg into some other insect's
nest. Sometimes the rightful owner detects the in-
truder, and then the latter generally suffers for her
deeds. When attacked by her angered foe, she usually
tries to shield herself by rolling her body into a ball
and lying motionless. Even this ruse, however, does
not always save her, and she loses her life, together with
her hope of providing for a future generation.

A SAND QUARRY IN WINTER. 45

Considering the size of the ruby-tail, it can contract
itself in a really wonderful manner. Some little time
ago, on a bright day in early spring, I was looking at
some rough palings upon a park fence, and was ex-
amining the little holes made by the Scolytus and
similar beetles. The palings happened to face due
south, and as the meridian sun shone on them, a ray
penetrated into one of the holes and I discovered some-
thing blue within. I proceeded to cut it out very care-
fully, and there found a ruby-tail completely doubled
up, like a hedgehog, within a hole scarcely large
enough to admit a No. 5 shot. In the same row of
palings I found plenty more specimens, all alive, and
very much perplexed at being so unceremoniously
ejected from the resting-place in which they had
passed the winter.

46 OUT OF DOORS.

THE BARK

MAKCH.

THERE is a time for all things, and this is the time for
that pursuit so dear to the heart of all entomologists,
hunting ' under the bark.' And well may it be dear
to him, for, putting aside the fact that ' under the
bark,' and there only, are found some of the rarest in-
sects that can enrich a cabinet, the pursuit is in itself
one of singular fascination. By withdrawing the
curtain of the bark we are admitted, as it were, on the
stage whereon Nature acts her ever-varying drama,
and indeed penetrate behind the scenes of the theatre.
We trace insects throughout the various stages of their
existence, and see how, by regular degrees, the fat,
white, round-bodied, slow-moving grub is transformed
into the active, ample-winged, long-legged beetle.
Then there is all the fascination of the lottery attendant
upon the search under the bark, and every fresh tree
or stump contains within it new elements of amuse-
ment. That there will be something under the bark is
absolutely certain ; but what it may be no one can
tell. There may be, perhaps, nothing but a common
woodlouse or centipede ; but there may be, and very

UNDER THE BARK. 47

likely will be, some insect which the searcher never
expected to find, and for which he has been long look-
ing. Without further preface I will give an account
of a few hours just spent in looking under the bark.

Close to my house — only across the road, indeed —
there is a piece of ground which at one time was
thickly planted with oak, birch, and fir trees, but which
has been of late years partially cleared ; the stumps
of the trees being in most cases left standing, so as to
project a foot or so above the ground. These trees are
on the upper part of the ground, while on the lower,
through which runs a tiny but permanent brooklet,
some willow trees are planted, one or two of them being
very old. In this ground I lately spent between two
and three hours, armed with a mortice chisel, a pair
of forceps, and a laurel-bottle, i.e., a bottle in which
are some young crushed laurel leaves, the odour of
which is fatal to beetles, and prevents them from eat-
ing each other. At this time of year, however, no
young laurel leaves are sufficiently grown, so I had to
make a substitute for them by putting a little Easter's
insect powder at the bottom of the bottle, and covering
it with a finely perforated card. This plan answered
so well that I shall try it through the season, for not
only was the odour of the powder fatal to the insects,
but it did not stiffen their limbs, which is the result of
laurel-leaf vapour.

As I have already mentioned, this is a good time
for searching under the bark. The severe frosts of

48 OUT OF DOORS.

winter have passed away, so that the fingers of the
searcher are not chilled into uselessness, a circumstance
which is very apt to occur when the enthusiastic ento-
mologist pursues his task in mid-winter. Moreover,
towards the spring a vast number of tree-inhabiting
insects become developed, and make their way towards
the open air before they undergo their last change, so
that at this time of year we may find almost imme-
diately under the bark many insects which at other
times would be buried deeply in the w\>od.

Taken roughly, all the creatures which are found
under the bark may be divided into two classes,
namely, those which have resorted there for shelter
during the cold months of winter, and those which
feed upon the bark or the substance of the tree itself.
The former can always be found under the bark of old
trees, especially oaks and willows. The latter, how-
ever, are the most prolific in insect life. In many old
willows the bark is slightly separated from the trunk
for many feet, and although no external sign be given of
this fact, the hollow sound which is returned when the
outside of the tree is tapped is a sufficient proof. On
carefully removing one of these sheets of bark from
the tree a most extraordinary sight is often presented.

The space between the bark and wood is a vast
camp of insect armies, their white and glittering tents
being set so closely together that there is not room
for a finger's tip between them. Under the bark also
flourish certain colonies of flat white cryptogams,

UNDER THE BARK. 49

which spread themselves in fan-like rays, and almost
rival the silken insect tents in whiteness. Now and
then comes a circular tent, through which can be seen
a quantity of little yellow globular objects. The
character, of the silk tells us that the nest is certainly
that of a spider, and we just pull off a little of the
cover to get a better view of the eggs. Scarcely has
the tip of the forceps stretched the silken roof than a
simultaneous stir becomes apparent through the eggs,
and all at once they suddenly start into life, unpacking
in some mysterious way the limbs which had been
folded round their globular bodies, and all running
about as busily and aimlessly as the inhabitants of a
disturbed ants' nest. In fact, the seeming eggs are not
«ggs at all, but very young spiders which have only
just been hatched and are waiting for warmer weather
before they make their appearance in the world.

This same space between the bark and the wood is
a favourite resort of many moth-caterpillars. Led by
instinct they proceed to the tree and climb up the
bark, seeking for some recess in which to pass theii
short period of helpless existence. In comparatively
young trees they content themselves with the crevices
formed by the rugged and knotty bark, but in old
trees, such as have been described, they manage to
discover some aperture through which they crawl into
the large sheltered space and there spin their silken
home. Careful investigation shows that, however safe
euch a retreat may be for the insect while in its pupa

E

50 OUT OF LOOKS.

or chrysalis condition, it is little more than a trap for
the perfect insect. For not only are spiders' eggs to
be found « under the bark,' but spiders themselves also
take up their residence there, and find ample subsis-
tence in the many insects that have found their way
under the bark and cannot find their way out again.

Only two or three days ago I found, under the bark
of an old willow tree, the remains of a beetle (Pris-
tonychus terricola) which had fallen a victim to a
spider. Unfortunately the edge of the chisel came
upon it and damaged the specimen, or I should have
cut it out and preserved it for my museum, as I never
saw anything more curious. In the first place, that
the insect had been caught by a spider was evident
from the fact that it was bound to the tree by spider
web. In the next, it was laid on its back with the
limbs, jaws, wings, and wing-cases separated and dis-
played with as much regularity, in spread-eagle fashion,.
as if it had been prepared by an entomologist as a
specimen of insect anatomy.

Now, that any beetle should have been so treated is
remarkable enough, but it is still more wonderful when
we remember that the insect in question is one of the
predacious beetles and measures three-quarters of an
inch in length, so that it appears to be much more
likely to eat the spider than to allow itself to be eaten.

Of all the insects which hibernate in the crevices
of the bark, by far the greater number seem to be the
chrysalides of various moths, which, as a rule, hide

UNDER THE BARK. 61

themselves so well that they need a practised eye to
see them, and even though the greatest care be taken
are often accidentally destroyed. It is extremely pro-
voking, after selecting an apparently safe spot for the
chisel, to see a white creamy fluid run along the blade,
and then to know that the tool has passed through
the body of a chrysalis which has hidden itself so
cleverly as to escape observation.

The most successful of these hiders is the Puss
Moth (Dicranura vinula}, the chrysalis of which lies
hidden in a singularly ingenious cocoon. When the
caterpillar is full fed it crawls to the trunk of the
tree and looks about for a crevice in the rough bark.
Into this crevice it insinuates itself, and begins at
once to nibble the bark into tiny chips, which it
fastens together with the silk-fluid discharged from its
spinnerets, and so makes a cocoon which completely
shelters it. Owing to the materials of which the
cocoon is made, it exactly resembles the bark and can
scarcely be distinguished from it, and as the caterpillar
took care to retire into the crevice before spinning, the
surface of the cocoon does not project beyond that of
the bark in general. Very often when the eye fails in
detecting a cocoon the touch succeeds, the material of
the cocoon being soft ; but this is not the case with
the Puss Moth, whose cocoon is much harder than the
bark of which it was made, the silk-fluid forming a
wonderfully firm and tough cement.

As for woodlice, millipedes, armadillos, and centi-

E 2

62 OUT OF DOORS.

pedes, they swarm under the bark, especially the wood-
lice, whose dried and whitened skeletons can be seen
by hundreds, showing at once their crustaceous descent.
Earwigs also are sure to appear in great force, and, as
is their wont, do not lose their presence of mind when
disturbed, but make their way instinctively for the
nearest crevice, and wriggle their lithe bodies out of
reach almost before they have been seen.

Under the bark are also the relics of other creatures.
For example, in one willow tree, the nuthatch and the
squirrel have both left their marks in the shape of
sundry hazel nuts. There is no difficulty in distin-
guishing the work of these two creatures. The nut-
hatch wedges the nut firmly into a crevice of the bark,
and hammers rapidly and perseveringly at the point
until the nut is split in two as neatly as a boy could
do it with his knife. The bird then goes off with the
kernel and leaves the halves of the shell where they
happen to lie, some of them being still fixed in the
bark, some lying on the ground, and some having
slipped between the bark and the wood. In this place
the nuthatch abounds, so that there is every oppor-
tunity for watching its habits. The squirrel treats its
nuts in a different manner, first gnawing off the tip
and then splitting the shell with its chisel-shaped
teeth. Sometimes it gets hold of a bad nut, and after
nibbling at th- lip throws it away. In the same tree
that has just i^en mentioned were several bad nuts,

UNDER THE SAEK. 63

each of which had been tested by a squirrel and then
thrown into the hollow between the tree and the bark.

There are plenty of beetles which find a shelter
under the bark during the months of winter. While
taking off one of the bark strips I saw something black
wriggling violently under the chisel, and presently saw
that it was a fine i Devil's Coach-horse ' (Goerius olens),
which had evidently attacked the chisel after the
manner of its fearless kind, and got itself caught be-
tween the blade and the wood. This is not a pretty
creature, but it is a wonderfully courageous one, and
will fight any antagonist without the least regard to
size. These beetles are very common at Margate,
living in the clefts of the chalk cliffs. I found one of
them at the foot of a flight of stone steps, and was ex-
ceedingly amused at the manner in which it attacked
my stick. It retreated fighting to the very top of the
stairs, keeping its front well to the enemy, and acting
on the offensive as well as the defensive whenever it
found a chance. These are useful beetles to the
gardener, as they feed upon many injurious insects,
and I rather fancy that the unfortunate individual
which was caught by the chisel had found its way under
the bark as much for the sake of food as of shelter.

Having thus examined the willow trees, I ascended
the hill and turned the chisel upon the stumps of the
fir trees. These were, as I thought they would be,
very prolific in insect life. In all cases I began by
gently removing the outer bark, and in the first stump

64 OUT OF DOOES.

that I opened a gleam of rich metallic purple caught
my eye. It was well below the bark, and buried in the
soft decayed wood, and had it not been that a bright
ray of sunshine happened to light upon it, I should
perhaps have missed it altogether. On picking away
the wood a fine specimen of the Purple Ground Beetle
(Carabus catenulatus) was disclosed — in my opinion
one of the handsomest of our British beetles, with its
rich purple thorax, and the purple edging of its beauti-
fully sculptured and elegantly shaped elytra.

To find one of these beetles is easy enough, because
it is one of our commonest species. But I certainly
never expected to find it in such a position. It is one
of the predacious beetles, and both in its larval and
perfect condition is a destroyer of other insects, so that
unless it fed while in the larval state upon the wood-
eating insects that inhabited the stump, I can scarcely
account for its presence. It was not a beetle which
had merely hidden itself under the bark by way of
finding shelter, for the beautifully perfect condition of
the insect showed that it had not as yet undergone any
battle with the world. Moreover, it was hidden rather
deeply in the wood, and was not merely lying under
the bark. I think, therefore, that it must have fed
while in the larval state upon the insects which in-
habited the stump, and have crawled into the spot
where it lay for the purpose of undergoing its trans-
formation. Under the bark of the same stump, and in

UNDER THE BARK. 66

many others, were found various little beetles, which
are popularly known as Sun-beetles or Sunshiners.

Carefully opening another stump, and removing
half an inch or so of the rotten and damp wood, a slight
movement caught my eye, and in a short time an
antenna, evidently of a beetle, was seen gradually
working its way to the light. Presently another
antenna appeared, and then the head, which at once
proclaimed itself as that of one of the wood-burrow-
ing, long-horn beetles, called Mhagium bifasciatum.
I do not know that it has any popular name, as is
indeed the case with most beetles, however common
they may be. This is a pretty, though soberly
coloured insect, long bodied, long horned, long legged,
and having a bold and sharp spike on each side of
the thorax. To the unassisted eye it is only blackish
gray, with four diagonal, cream-coloured marks on
the elytra. But when a powerful light is concen-
trated upon it, and the magnifying lens is employed,
the colouring assumes a very curious aspect. The
elytra seem to be made of black glass, ribbed, and
covered on the surface with a multitude of tiny white
specks, while the cream-coloured marks appear to lie
quite beneath the surface, as if they were painted under
the glass.

I was very glad to find this beetle, having tried in
vain to discover one of its curious nests, but, though
three insects were in the same little stump, I could not
find a perfect nest. At last, however, in another stump

66 OUT OF DOORS.

I succeeded in finding the nest, cut off the stump with
a saw, and brought it home.

Just before these beetles are about to change into
the perfect state they make for themselves an oval cellr
so shaped that the head of the insect is upwards. This
cell is lined with strips of wood, which are torn away
by the jaws of the larva and arranged regularly, like-
the tiles of a house. The nest that is now before me-
is a little more than an inch in depth, and on the out-
side is an inch and a quarter in length by three-eighths
of an inch in width. This diminishes, however, both
in length and breadth in proportion to the depth, so-
that at the bottom, where the insect reposed, it is only
five-eighths of an inch in length and a quarter of an
inch in width, just large enough indeed to hold the-
beetle with its limbs and antennae packed tightly ta
the body. The insect which made this nest differed
from all the others in one respect. In the other cases
the beetles seemed only too anxious to escape from
their dark home and pass into the open air, while this
one persisted in adhering to its nest, and, as the light
was admitted, seemed to prefer darkness, pressing itself
into the farthest recesses of its cell.

Another stump disclosed a really wonderful scene
of insect life. On stripping off the bark of a small
stump, barely eight inches in diameter and about as
much in height from the surface of the ground, a large
colony of the Yellow Ant (Formica flava) was sud-
denly exposed to the light. The insects had th&

UNDER THE BARK. 57

strongest objection to the inroad upon their premises,
and ran about actively in all directions. Their habi-
tation was elaborately made of small particles of earth,
which had been built together after the fashion of ants,
and had been arranged between the bark and the wood
so as to form a perfect labyrinth of soil cells and
passages. I was really sorry to have broken into so
elaborate a piece of insect architecture, but the mis-
chief had been done, and was aggravated by a brisk
and decidedly cold wind which had just sprung up, and
which blew the unfortunate ants about in a way of
which they did not at all approve.

This species of ant is very common, especially on
heaths and similar places, and has the power of varying
the structure of its nest so as to suit all conditions.
On open ground it builds little hillocks, which, fragile
as they appear, are quite capable of throwing off the
rain. If, however, it can find a flat stone, it takes
advantage of so good a shelter, and makes its habitation
immediately beneath it, while in the present instance
it had run up its chambers from the earth and extended
them between the wood and bark of the stump. The
bark was very close to the wood, and the insects had
gained the requisite space by making shallow cavities
in the decaying wood. During a severe winter these
ants carry their habitations deeply into the ground,
and make chambers, sunk well beneath the surface,
communicating with each other by passages some four
inches in length. It is in these nests, by the way, that

58 OUT OF DOORS.

some of our rarest beetles are discovered. The colour
of the insect is bright but pale yellow, the larger
workers being brighter in hue than the smaller.

Having already done as much mischief as could be
done, I had no scruple in removing the remainder of
the bark. To my astonishment, another ants' nest was
disclosed, but that of a different species, namely, the
Jet Ant (Formica, fuliginosa). Thus we have the
curious fact that on opposite sides of the same little
stump were two flourishing colonies of two different
species of ant, neither interfering with the other, and
both so completely concealed that no traces of them
were seen until the bark was removed.

When their house was thus broken open, the ants
showed at once the difference in disposition as weU as
in form. The yellow ants ran about in a state of great
perturbation, and although they could do but little ap-
peared to do a great deal. They were very angry too,
and one of them, when put into the bottle, attacked a
sun-beetle, grasped one of its antennae with a hold like
that of a bull-dog, and so died under the influence of
the poisoned vapour. As a memorial of the occasion,
[ intend to place in my cabinet the beetle with the
dead ant stiU griping the antenna between its jaws.

The jet ants displayed no such fussiness, but took
matters very coolly indeed. At first they seemed to be
surprised into something like activity, but they soon
appeared to make up their minds that there was no use
in troubling themselves more than necessary. So they

UNDER THE BARK. 69

quietly slipped away under cover, some dropping at
once to the ground and so escaping into the recesses of
the nest, and others crawling very leisurely down the
ruins of their home and disappearing into the deep-
lying cells. Still, quiet, and almost sluggish as were
their movements, they answered their purpose wonder-
fully well, for the retreat was made so quickly that
almost before I had recovered from my surprise at find-
ing this second nest so close to the first scarcely an ant
was to be seen.

The jet ants carry this easy-going style into ordinary
life, and may be seen in the summer time doing what
few ants do, namely, idling. They have a way of
assembling together in considerable numbers just out-
side the nest and remaining quite still in the sunshine,
instead of running about and working as do most other
ants, whether the sun shine upon them or not. I need
scarcely say that both these ants are well worthy of ex-
amination under the microscope. All insects are worthy
of such an examination, but some seem to be more
worthy than others, and of such are these two species of
ants, so different from each other in form, colour, and
disposition.

The same fir-wood is also much frequented by the
magnificent insect called Sirex gigas — the insect that
is so common in the neighbourhood of fir woods, and is
BO often mistaken for a hornet. When the bark is re-
moved from the tree, the holes made by the sirex in
its larval state are very evident ; but as the insect is an

60 OUT OF DOORS.

inhabitant of the wood itself, and is seldom to be found
under the bark, I pass but lightly over it in the present
instance. Under the bark is a favourite resort of many
of the weevil tribe, and those which do worst harm to
fruit-trees are mostly in the habit of hiding themselves
during the winter in the crevices of the bark. So all
growers of fruit-trees will do well during the winter to
search carefully under the bark of the older trees, and
to fill up the crevices with some greasy composition,
which will smother the beetles as they lie in their
hiding-places. Stripping off the bark is much recom-
mended, but I doubt its efficacy, inasmuch as these
beetles always let themselves fall to the ground when
they are alarmed, so that the greater number would
escape when they were disturbed. The greasy composi-
tion, which can be laid on with a brush, does no harm
to the tree, and very effectually smothers the insects
that are lying hidden l under the bark.'

61

MRS. COATES'S BATH.

MRS. COATES'S BATH is, I am happy to say, a bath no
longer, but subserves a better purpose. What it was in
the old days, and what it is now, I proceed to explain.
One of the most delightful privileges of a practical
naturalist is to possess extensive grounds of varied cha-
racter. The next best thing is to live close to such
grounds possessed by a friend who allows free range
over them. In the same grounds that were mentioned
in the paper entitled * Under the Bark ' is a small pond
situated at the bottom of a rather steep dell close to the
house. Somewhere about the beginning of the present
century a certain Mrs. Coates inhabited the house, and
very judiciously converted a piece of swampy ground
into a convenient bathing-place, by having a pond dug
and paved, and the spring which saturated the ground
led into it at one end, and out of it at the other, and so
conveyed into a brook which just skirts the grounds.
For many years, however, the place has been disused as
a bath, and merely serves as a pretty object to the eye.
A week or two ago the idea struck me that the pond
was likely to be rich in animal life, inasmuch as it is
completely sheltered from the north-east wind, which

62 OUT OF DOORS.

is so hated by insects, and only open towards the south,
allowing the meridian rays of the sun to fall daily upon
it. So I fished in it for an hour or two, with a little net,
and found that my impression was true. It is absolutely
impossible, in so limited a space, to describe, or even to
mention, all the creatures which I found in that tiny
pond, but the following are some of the most character-
istic inhabitants of ' Mrs. Coates's Bath.'

There were plenty of newts. Now, these are really
very pretty creatures, especially in the breeding season,
when the males put on their nuptial splendours. Like
many birds, they only assume their best dress for a
short period, and when that brief period is over, they
can scarcely be distinguished from their more sombre
mates. The chief and most conspicuous portion of the
nuptial dress of the male newt is a sort of fin which
runs along the back, and looks something like a cock's
comb. It is deeply notched and toothed at the upper
edge, and, as it is extremely delicate, it waves about in
the water in graceful accordance with the movements
of the animal. My little boy took some of these newts
home, and, in the innocence of his heart, showed them
to the gardener. The man was horribly frightened.
He jumped back and absolutely yelled with terror. He,
keeping at a safe distance from the dread beasts, told
the boy that * the efiet was the most pizenous thing as
is,' and that he had known lots of people lie down in
the grass at haymaking time, when they were bitten by
effets, and then they swelled up and went on swelling

MRS. COATE&S BATH. 6a

till they died. Fortunately, the boy was too well taught
to believe the man, and Ms terrors and warnings only
afforded the keenest amusement.

The newt is an interesting animal to keep. In the
first place, it is very graceful as it swims, and its pretty
colours and brilliant eyes show out much better in the
water than on land. Then it has a very curious manner
of depositing its eggs, doubling them up in the leaf of
some plant, sometimes, though not always, a plant
which is growing in the water. There is now before
me a blade of grass which I found in the pond. It is
neatly doubled in two, and in the fold is one of the
little translucent eggs of the newt. When these eggs
are hatched, little tadpoles issue from them, almost
exactly resembling those of the frog, having similarly
large heads, and long tapering bodies.

They do not show their individuality until their legs
begin to appear, when the distinction is at once evident.
In the frog-tadpole the hind legs are the first to
appear, but the reverse is the case with the newt. As
they increase in size the distinction becomes more ap-
parent, for the tail of the frog-tadpole is gradually
absorbed into the body, while that of the newt increases
in length. The newt, in fact, differs but little in struc-
ture from the frog, except that it retains its tail
throughout its life. I find that in captivity the newt
changes its skin oftener than it would do if left at
liberty, and that if the water in the vessel in which it
is left be changed, the newt generally casts its skin

«4 OUT OF DOORS.

•within a short time. This envelope is drawn from the
body in an almost perfect state. It is exceedingly fine,
like goldbeater's skin, and, if a card be slipped beneath
it as it floats in the water, the skin can be spread out on
it, and so removed, dried, and preserved as a specimen.
Two such skins are now before me, and very pretty
objects they are, every toe of each foot being quite
perfect, and looking like fairy gloves.

As to aquatic insects, the water swarms with them,
and the number of water-beetles alone that I found
there is prodigious. This not being an entomological
work I do not intend to give a list of the insects
found in this little pond, but will only mention some of
the principal species.

There was the great water-beetle (Dyticus margin-
alis) in plenty. This, in common with all of its kind,
is not an eligible inhabitant of an aquarium. If two or
three be placed in a vessel with other inhabitants of
the water, they immediately begin eating their fellow
prisoners, and, having finished all the smaller creatures,
attack each other, the strongest killing and eating the
weakest. I have before me a very fine male Dyticus
in a pickle-bottle, where I was compelled to banish him
in consequence of his voracity. I feed him mostly on
blue-bottles, which he seizes between his powerful fore-
legs, and devours in a very short time. At first he was
rather puzzled with the flies, they not being his usual
prey, but he now knows how to manage them, and a fly
scarcely touches the surface of the water when it is

MRS. COATE&S BATH. 65

seized and borne below, held firmly in the jaws of its
captor.

It is an insect full of wonders, and contains in itself
the elements of more than one mechanical invention.
In the first place it is a living diving-bell. Like all
insects it breathes atmospheric air by means of tubes,
which permeate the whole of the body. The apertures
by which these tubes communicate with the air lie
on the upper part of each side, under the wing-cases.
Now these wing-cases, or elytra, are convex, while the
upper part of the body is flat, so that there is a space
between the wing-cases and the body. Every now and
then the beetle comes to the surface of the water, pro-
trudes the end of the body, draws in a supply of air
into the space between the elytra and the body, and
dives again, the elytra fitting so closely to each other
and to the sides that the air cannot escape. Some-
times, if the beetle be not alarmed, it will remain at
the surface, with its head downwards, and its body
balanced by its extended swimming-legs, and on a calm
day quite a number of water-beetles may be seen thus
suspended.

The swimming-legs which have just been men-
tioned are themselves very wonderful examples of
structure. They are so made that the only movements
which they can perform are those of swimming, and
they are fringed with stiff hairs so set that when the
leg is struck against the water the hairs stand out and
act like the blade of an oar ; while, when the limb is

F

66 OUT OF DOORS.

bent back for the next stroke, they are drawn through
the water from their roots to their points, and so offer
the least possible resistance.

The first pair of legs of a' male Dyticus are worthy
the closest possible examination. On the feet of each
of them is a round disc, which, when magnified, is seen
to be made of three joints, flattened and dilated.
Their under surface is covered with a vast array of
suckers, one of which is very large, two of moderate
size, and all the rest very small, and set on foot-stalks.
With these suckers they can hold so tightly that they
can crawl up a pane of glass by their aid, and bold so
firmly that a rather sharp pull is required before they
can be detached. A few days ago I noticed that one
of these water-beetles had remained at the bottom of
the vessel for a long time, and, on closer examination,
found that it was dead. I took hold of it to remove
it, when, to my astonishment, the body came away in
my hand, the two fore-legs still clinging to the glass.
The beetle had evidently been dead for some time, and
was semi-putrid, but yet the suckers held on as firmly
as during life.

Owing to the great length and peculiar jointing of
the swimming-legs, the beetle is a bad walker, though
it is a good flyer and a better swimmer. If placed
upon the ground it crawls awkwardly about, and seems
to have little power of directing its course. Should it
fall on its back on a smooth surface it gives a series of
wild kicks with its long hind legs, the action being

MRS. COATES'S SAT II. 67

precisely the same as in swimming, and both legs being
used simultaneously. If the surface be perfectly
smooth, such as a plate or a piece of glass, the insect
only spins round and round, and after a short time
seems to be seized with despair, and lies perfectly
motionless.

Though the beetle can do no harm, and may be
taken in the hand without fear, I do not recommend
indiscriminate handling, and this for two reasons. In
the first place it is wonderfully strong, and has a way
of forcing itself backwards through the hands, so that
a double-headed spike at the base of the swimming-
legs is apt to prick the fingers rather smartly. In the
next place when held it ejects a whitish fluid, which
issues from the junctions of the head, the thorax, and
the abdomen, and which has a strong and very un-
pleasant odour.

The larva or grub of this beetle is quite as formid-
able and ferocious as the perfect insect — which it does
not in the least resemble. It is long-bodied, the body
swelling out in the middle, and tapering gradually to
the tail, at the end of which are a couple of diverging
fringed leaflets, which are attached to the respiratory
organs. The head is large and broad, and armed with
a pair of exceedingly long and sharp jaws, curved like
a reaper's sickle, and having a very sickle-like aspect.
The legs are long and slender, and the colour is a pale
brown. It moves by two modes of progression. It
can use its legs for walking, and does so when it is

F '2

68 OUT OF DOORS.

trying to crawl leisurely, but when it desires to move
with any swiftness it causes its body to undulate like
the movement of an eel or a serpent, and so gets along
at a good pace, its legs being used merely as balancers
to its body.

Its character is best seen when it is at rest. It
bends its body nearly at right angles, and ascends to
the surface of the water, upon which the fringed leaf-
lets of the tail are spread so as to enable the creature
to breathe at ease. It thus hangs, as it were, sus-
pended by these leaflets, with its head downwards, its
monstrous jaws wide open, and its long legs spread, so
that it forms a perfect living trap, ready to close on
any unfortunate creature that may come in its way.
Being rather a wary creature it escapes the net unless
proper precautions be taken. I have always found
that the best plan is to stir up the mud of the pond,
and then to sweep the net rapidly through the turbid
water, thus catching the Dyticus larva before it sees
its danger. In « Mrs. Coates's Bath ' are many of this
beetle's kinsfolk, but the manners and customs of all
are so similar that one will suffice as an example of
them all.

Perhaps the reader may think that there is not
much to be seen in the common whirlwig, or whirligig
beetle (Gyrinus}, which may be seen in vast numbers
on the surface of the water, performing its mazy dance
in any sheltered spot. Summer or winter seem to be
the same to the whirlwig, and even in the cold days of

MRS. COATES'S BATH. 69

winter a gleam of sunshine will bring out the whirlwig
beetles in any spot wherever the ice is not formed, and
they will dart about as merrily as if the July sun were
pouring its hot beams on them. I need not say that
there are plenty of these beetles, because there is
scarcely a piece of water larger than a puddle in which
they may not be found. A depression in the ground
which has been dry for months, and suddenly filled
with water by a rain-storm, will have whirlwigs in it
before many hours have passed. The fact is that
these beetles, like those which I have just described,
have large and powerful wings, and can use them with
great ease. They can take a flight from the surface of
the water — a fact which I believe has not hitherto
been noticed, or at all events not published. I found
it out only a few weeks ago.

While stooping over the water, and admiring the
rapid movements of the whirlwig beetles, one of them
suddenly darted up, struck me on the nose, and fell back
again into the water. If the beetle were half as much
astonished as I was^ it must have been very much sur-
prised indeed. Wishing to see how this feat was
achieved, I took a number of the beetles, and put them
into an aquarium, thinking — and, the result proved,
rightly — that they would soon be tired of their limited
space and would take to wing. After whirling about
for a little time, some of them crawled up the glass sides
of the aquarium, while others darted into the air and
took to flight. They did it by striking the water

70 OUT OF DOORS.

violently with both swimming-feet at the same moment,
and thus jerking themselves several inches into the air.
Almost simultaneously with the spring, they spread their
wide wings, and flew off with incredible speed.

There is an old fairy tale about three sisters, who
had respectively one, two, and three eyes, the elder and
the youngest treating their sister very contemptuously
because she had two eyes like people in general. Now,
a whirlwig beetle goes one step beyond them for it has
four eyes, two above and two below — two to see below
the water and two to see above it. Of course the beetle
has in reality a vast number of eyes, like most insects,
but those eyes are divided into four masses instead of
two. The reason is this. The insect is continually
scurrying about on the surface of the water, watching
for prey, and if its eyes were constructed in the ordinary
fashion it would only be able to see either above or below
the surface, according as its eyes happened to be placed.
In order to be able to see distinctly any object below
the surface of the water, its eyes must be submerged ;
and in the eyes of this little beetle we find the principle
of that well-known instrument, the water telescope.
This is used for the purpose of looking into the water,
and is simply a tube with a plain glass fixed water-
tight into one end. When the glass is pushed under
the surface of the water, and the eye applied to the upper
part of the instrument, objects can be seen with great
plainness, the vision not being obstructed by any ripples
on the surface of the water.

MRS. COATES'S BATH. 71

In the larval state this is a very peculiar creature.
It is long-bodied, with a blackish head, and along the
sides of the body are delicate white filaments, which are
the ' branchiae,' or gills, by which the creature breathes.
Eespiration is effected by a continual passage of water
over the gills, and in still water this object is achieved
by a very constant undulation of the body, so that the
gills necessarily are brought in contact with fresh par-
ticles of water. By means of the same undulations, the
larva urges itself through the water, just as has been
mentioned of the Dyticus larva, and so, by the mere act
of progression, increased power of respiration is obtained.
In perfectly still water, the creature is never quiet for a
moment, but keeps up a perpetual undulation of the
body, during which the little gills have a most graceful
appearance, as they float like silver threads on either side
of the body. Sometimes the larva obtains its supply of
oxygen by ascending a few inches by forcible undulations,
and then allowing itself to sink slowly to the bottom,
the delicate branchiae being spread out on either side,
and acting as floats to prevent it from sinking too fast.

In ' Mrs. Coates's Bath ' are numberless water-
boatmen (Notonecta) of various species and in all stages
of existence. We will, however, content ourselves with
the commonest and largest species. The insect derives
the popular name of water-boatman from the fact that
it lies on its back, the sharp edge of which makes a very
good imitation of a boat-keel, and rows itself by its long
swimming-legs, which are nearly straight, and, with their

72 OUT OF DOORS.

bristle-fringed ends, look exceedingly like oars. In fact,
we have no oars that can in any respect approach in
efficiency the swimming-legs of the water-boatman, with
their invariably correct action, and their self-feathering
blades. The name of Notonecta or back-swimmer is
given to the insect in consequence of the habit of turn-
ing on its back when it swims.

These insects are not beetles, though they are often
thought to be so. They belong to another order of in-
sects altogether, and will give very tangible proofs of
this fact if carelessly handled. Anyone who has caught
one of the predacious beetles may expect a sharp nip
with the jaws if he does not take care of himself. But the
water-boatman, in common with the rest of its kin, is
furnished with a sharp and strong proboscis, which it will
drive deeply into the fingers of its captor if it gets a
chance. Like the whirlwig, the water-boatman is able
to take flight directly from the surface of the water, and
does so in a very similar manner, leaping out of the
water by a violent stroke of its swimming-legs, and then
spreading its wings before it falls back again. When
on the wing, it flies with a deep humming sound, very
like that which is produced by the humble-bee.

Its respiration is carried on much in the same way
as that of the water-beetle already described. On a calm
day, if ' Mrs. Coates's Bath ' be approached cautiously,
so that a heavy step does not communicate itself
through the land to the water, and that no shadow
be thrown upon the insects, whole fleets of water-

MRS. COATES'S BATH. 73

boatmen of all sizes may be seen floating with their
heads downwards, the swimming-legs spread wide by
way of balancers, and the tips of their bodies just pro-
truding from the surface. A hasty step, however, a
sudden movement, or a shadow, even of a passing bird,
thrown on the water, will alarm the insects, and they
will scurry off in all directions.

By watching these insects very carefully in a bottle,
and keeping that bottle constantly before my eyes on
my desk, I have been enabled to observe the course
which the air takes in respiration, the partly trans-
lucent wing-cases enabling the bubbles to be traced as
they pass like globules of quicksilver under the wing-
cases and finally into the water. The air is taken in
at the end of the tail, and introduced into the space
between the wing-covers and the body. It is then
gradually drawn forward until it reaches the base of
the wing-covers, and is lastly forced out just where the
wing-covers fit against the breast. When the insect is
perfectly quiet the process may be seen going on with
perfect regularity, the air being taken in near the tail,
working its way under the wing-covers, and at last
squeezed out near the breast, when it ascends in bubbles
to the surface. In this position the water-boatmen are
accustomed to wash themselves. They are as cleanly
as cats, and perform the operation of washing in a
very similar manner, leaving not a limb nor a part of
the body untouched. Sometimes they will rest on the
surface of the water, but this time with their backs up-

74 OUT OF DOORS.

wards, til air wing-cases half opened, and their winga
partly unfurled. I never saw them assume this attitude
except when the sun was shining directly on them, but
I have in that case seen thirty or forty at a time sunning
themselves in this curious attitude, which has all the
effect of a disguise, and makes them look quite different
insects.

I am sorry to say that water-boatmen are very pre-
datory characters, and that they have a great fancy for
preying upon the water-gnats, as they are called, those
slight, dark-coloured, long-legged insects that run
about on the surface of the water as if they were on
land. They seize on the unfortunate insect, clasp it
tightly to them with their fore-legs, drive their beaks
deeply into its body, and suck out all its juices, after-
wards rejecting the body, which to the eye seems to
have undergone no change at all, and only to have been
killed by the wound. The water-boatman takes from
five minutes to a quarter of an hour to suck a single
water-gnat, and carries it about almost pertinaciously,
not even loosening its hold if alarmed and forced to
dive. >

Few facts have struck me more forcibly than the
peculiar life which is led by this and other aquatic
creatures. As a rule they are essentially predacious.
Taking merely those which have been mentioned, we
have the newt, which eats all kinds of water inhabitants,
provided they are not too large, and is in its turn often
subject to a fierce attack by the Great Dyticus, and has

MRS. COATES'S BATH. 75

a bite or two taken out of its stomach, where it cannot
brush away its adversary. Then the water-beetles are
quite ready to eat each other should no better prey
offer itself, while they ordinarily feed upon water-boat-
men, water-gnats, and various larvse. Yet, with all
this mutual destruction, the creatures are not in the
least afraid of each other, and a whirlwig larva will, for
example, swim deliberately in front of a newt or a
water-beetle, though its destruction is almost certain.
I cannot but think that they do not look upon such a
death as we do, and that the larger predacious creatures
are to the smaller somewhat as disease and accidents
are to ourselves — something which cannot be foreseen
or avoided, and which has no terror until it actually
comes to pass.

One more predacious insect, and we will conclude
with two which are vegetarians, and which, though
they find no food in their comrades o'f the pond, some-
times furnish it. I felt sure that in ' Mrs. Coates's
Bath ' the larva of at least one species of dragon-fly was
likely to be found, and a part of a cast skin of a dragon-
fly larva which I found in my net confirmed the theory.
There were some rather large patches of duck-weed
floating in the pond, which I thought were likely
haunts for the creatures. Accordingly I put the net
quietly under the duck-weed, drew it smartly with its
edge against the floating plant, and at the very first
dip secured three dragon-fly larvae, all belonging to the
genus JEshna, and being, indeed, the larvas of

76 OUT OF DOORS.

grcmdis, one of our largest dragon-flies. I afterwards
took more specimens, not only of that but of other
species, including the Demoiselle, but the present
creature is enough to act as a sample of the rest.

To my mind this is one of the most extraordinary
beings that the world produces. There is no need of
travelling to tropical countries for Nature's marvels.
They are lavishly poured out at our feet, and we only
have to recognise them. Its mode of progression is one
that has lately been taken up as a new method of pro-
pelling steam-vessels, and its mode of seizing its prey
displays a power of modification which very few struc-
tures attain. I took a number of these larvae home,
and watched their proceedings very attentively. They
were well worth watching.

In the first place we will see how the creature propels
itself. The body of the larva is long and tapering, rather
larger in the middle, and ending in five horny spikes,
which can be made to diverge from each other or can
be pressed closely together, when they look like a single
point. At the junction of these spikes is a circular
aperture, large enough to receive an ordinary pin, and
this aperture leads to a hollow space within the body.
In this hollow are the gills, and respiration is carried
on by means of the water which is drawn in and ejected
through the orifice at the root of the horny spikes.
When the creature is at rest the water is drawn in and
out very quietly, and producing a gentle current that

MUS. COATES'S BATH. 77

extends for several inches behind the larva. But when
it desires to propel itself quickly the larva expels the
water violently, and so, on the principle of the ' direct-
action ' machine, drives itself forcibly in the opposite
direction. Thus the progress of the dragon-fly larva
is necessarily a series of jerks, as some appreciable space
of time is required in which the hollow can be filled
with water. The nautilus, the common cuttle-fish and
their kin, propel themselves in the same manner,
which is exactly identical in principle with the flight
of the rocket, and, in the creature called the Flying
Squid, produces much the same effect.

If the larva be placed in a shallow and flat vessel,
in which some very fine dark sand has been scattered,
the whole process is rendered plainly visible. When
the larva remains quietly in one place, the sand is
gradually washed away in a direct line with the insect,
leaving a track about a quarter of an inch wide, and
some three inches in length. This track is very clear
and well-defined near the insect, but becomes vague
and broad in proportion to the distance from the larva.
Now, if the larva be touched, a very different appear-
ance is shown. The larva darts suddenly through the
water, and, instead of the simple narrow track, a broad
fan-shaped track is left, the water having been expelled
with such force as to drive away the sand on both
sides.

Its mode of eating is as strange as its progression.
The lower lip, instead of being, as it mostly is, a mere

78 OUT OF DOORS.

appendage to the mouth, is developed into a powerful
instrument of apprehension. It is greatly elongated,
being fully one-fourth as long as the entire insect. It
increases gradually in width from its junction with the
head to the end, which is armed with two short but
sharp jaws, curved and toothed in their interior edges.
It is furnished with two hinges, one at the junction of
the ' mask,' as it is called, and the other about half of
its length, so that it can lie flat against the breast, th-e
hinge descending as far as the base of the first pair of
legs, and the jaws lying exactly over the lower jaws of
the mouth. It is called the mask because its broad
end lies over the mouth and face of the insect so as to
conceal them. When the larva sees some creature
which it wishes to eat, it propels itself quietly beneath
its unsuspecting prey, turns over on its back, and, with
a sharp darting movement, seizes the unfortunate insect,
and holds it against the true jaws, by which it is soon
devoured.

The voracity of this larva is extraordinary, and it
seems capable of continually eating. As for my own
specimens, they were so voracious that at last I took
them out of the aquarium and put them into a vessel
of their own, supplying them with flies and other
insects. I found that, although they would eat blue-
bottles in lack of other food, they never seemed to like
them, although they would readily eat as many house-
flies as could be supplied to them. One day, thinking
that the formidable larva of the water-beetle was quite

MRS. COATJES'S BATH. 79

able to hold its own, I put one of them in the same
vessel. Next morning it was gone, and nothing was
left of it but the two sickle-shaped jaws, which were
lying at the bottom of the vessel. At last they took
to eating each other, and I have now but one survivor,
which, as may be expected, is a very large and fine
specimen. It changed to the pupal state while in my
possession, but is just as ravenous as it was when a
larva, and as it will be when it becomes a dragon-fly.

Within this little pond are many species of caddis
and several of May-flies — at least, of these insects in
their preparatory condition. A really good collection
of caddis-tubes can be procured from this spot, and I
was rather surprised to find in it the curved and conical
tubes of the Sericostoma, which are made of sand and
tiny fragments of stone. May-fly Iarva3 also I found in
tolerable plenty, and obtained them by the simple pro-
cess of breaking up the mud of the bank, and catching
them as they issued from their dwelling tunnels. These
burrows are made in the soft muddy bank, and are
shaped like the letter ^} laid horizontally, so that the
inhabitants can pass in at one entrance and out at the
other. As for larvae of gnats and other flies, they
simply swarm, and are present in such numbers that to
give even a cursory description would take ten times
the space that can be spared. The aquatic Crustacea
are in great numbers, and within the compass of that
tiny pond may be procured enough specimens to give
a laborious naturalist work for a year or two. Leeches,

80 OUT OF DOORS.

too, abound, and I was specially pleased to find several
specimens of the Planaria, that curious flat-bodied
annelid which is worthy of much examination.

In this and the preceding paper I have endeavoured
to show the wonderful amount of interest which lies
hidden in every object around us. Those who take up
any branch of natural history pass straightway into a
new world, and the more thoroughly do they enter into
it the less do they complain of the narrowness of their
field. I have intentionally taken two very narrow
fields, namely, the living beings that are found ' Under
the Bark,' and the creatures that live beneath the waters
of a tiny pond measuring only three yards by four,
And, so far from exhausting either the bark or the
pond, I have given but the slightest and most sketchy
account of both, choosing a few of the most conspicuous
objects as examples of the rest, and leaving un described
and even unmentioned hundreds of others every whit
as interesting, but for which our limited space is in-
sufficient.

81

A SUMMER WALK THROUGH AN ENGLISH
LANE.

THEEE are myriad spots in fair England most dear to
the lover of nature, each having its peculiar attraction
to the spirit of the spectator, and gladdening the soul of
the poet or the artist with beauty as tender or majestic
as can be found in most parts of this globe. But, of all
beloved haunts, commend me to that which can be
furnished by no other country on earth, — the real, dear,
genuine, old-fashioned English Lane, with its banks of
flowers, its little rippling streamlets, its shady hedge-
rows ; its feathered trees, with their gnarled roots
thrusting themselves out of the bank in strange knotty
contortions, and occasionally making their appearance
in the centre of the footpath, as if for the express pur-
pose of flinging the heedless passenger on his nose ; its
charming freedom from any kind of regularity, its
pleasant hum of busy insect wings, and its cheerful
twitter of little birds. The woodbine flings its graceful
masses of twining foliage and fragrant flowers over the
hedgerows, and the odorous white blossoms of the wild
clematis add their bright petals to vivify the scene.
In some parts of the country this plant is called the

G

82 OUT OF DOORS.

traveller's joy, because it is supposed only to grow on
the grounds of an honest man, and to wither straight-
way if he should fall into evil courses. Travellers,
therefore, who come upon this flower may rejoice in
their security, and place reliance upon the owner of the
soil they tread.

Not in every part of England will you find the true
unsophisticated lane — but there is no other country
where you will find even its semblance. Some years
since, a well-known American authoress paid her first
visit to England, and was greatly charmed by the
elucidation of a mystery which had long puzzled her
while reading descriptions of English country life.
Not until she had with her own eyes seen a genuine
country lane could she understand how children could
push themselves through the hedge after flowers, and
so tumble into the ditch. Our painters have long dis-
covered the value of lane scenery, and our truest poets
have not been behindhand in painting with glowing
words these uniquely lovely scenes of their native land.

At this time of the year, the exquisitely delicate
tintings of the early leaves have passed away, and given
place to a dark luxuriance of foliage, sobered here and
there by the dried stalks of last year's vegetation, which
underlie the light summer verdure, and are wonderfully
effective in toning down the dappled greenage of the
living leaves. To all who are capable of appreciating
the many beauties of unrestrained nature the English
lane is very dear ; but to the field naturalist it derives

A WALK THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 83

an additional charm from the varied forms of life which
swarm within its precincts. Every leaf is covered with
a very world of minute beings ; each bud and flower
attracts thousands of happy and sportive existences
within the sphere of its potent, though invisible
perfume ; and every plant is to creatures innumerable
a cradle, a nursery, a banquet, and a home. The air is
filled with the merry buzzing of insect wings that
glitter in the sunbeams ; the water teems with strange
and weird-like forms ; and even the apparently dull
earth below the feet contains within its bosom beings
as wonderfully mysterious in their structure and func-
tions, though seldom, to our eyes, so lovely as the in-
habitants of air. While we walk slowly through our
country lane, let us pay a little attention to a few of
the living hosts that are sure to cross our path.

There goes a great humble-bee, blundering along
the flower-clad bank, with its steady, continuous drone,
occasionally broken by a sharp, congratulatory buzz, as
it alights on some untouched flower, and proceeds to
rifle it of its sweet treasures. That is a maternal bee,
hard at work as usual, gathering stores for her home,
but taking very good care to give no intimation respect-
ing her address.

The wiles of these insects are really astonishing.
To find a humble-bee's nest is a common event enough ;
but to track the insect to her home is no such easy
matter. She soon finds out that she is being watched,

G 2

84 OUT OF DOORS.

and tries to mislead her pursuer by artifices that would
do credit to the curmingest fox that ever baffled a pack
of hounds. She first tries to elude observation alto-
gether, flies sharply to a little distance, settles on a
plant, drops to the ground through the leaves, and
either endeavours to lie hidden until the enemy has
left the spot, or to crawl quietly away under the shelter
of the foliage. It needs a practised eye to find the
crafty insect as she crouches to the ground ; and the
best way is to rustle the herbage with a stick, and
frighten her out of her hiding-place.

Off she goes in a great fume, humming and buzzing
like a dozen bees, but never in the direction of her
nest. Follow her up, and, finding that she cannot
escape, she will change her tactics. She then tries to
delude her pursuer into the notion that her nest is
close at hand, and exhibits a vast amount of spurious
anxiety about some little hole in the ground, about
which she makes a great turmoil — crawling in, backing
out, fluttering all round it, and making as great a fuss
as if all her parental affections and household cares
were centred in that little empty hollow.

Then, perhaps, she will pretend that she has not
yet made her nest, and traverses the bank backward
and forward as if she were seeking for a suitable
locality, peering into every little crevice, scratching
out a little soil here and there, and sometimes sitting
quietly down for some moments as if quite fatigued.
Turn your back for a minute, and Madam Drumbledore

A WALK THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 85

has vanished from the scene — slipped off quietly to her
home in her own roundabout fashion.

Perhaps at another part of the lane, but certainly
not within some distance from the spot where she was
seen, the nest may be found, a mere insignificant hole
in the bank, guarded in all probability by the roots
of the neighbouring trees or bushes. Originally it was
the home of a country mouse, deserted by the exca-
vator, and squatted upon by the humble-bee. The
inhabitants may be seen passing in and out at rather
long intervals ; and if the ear be applied to the aper-
ture, a subdued kind of humming and buzzing is heard
in the interior. There is no danger in this process,
perilous though it may sound, for the big, heavy
Drumbledore is among bees what the Newfoundland is
among dogs, and seldom makes use of the formidable
weapon with which Providence has armed her for
1 defence, not defiance.' Many nests have I watched,
and many have I opened, and never yet was stung by
the humble-bee for my intrusion.

Dismissing therefore the fear of stings — for even if
irritated, a humble-bee is so slow of wing that it
cannot make the tiger-like charge of the wasp or the
hornet, and can easily be captured or avoided — get out
the long and strong bladed knife (which every observer
ought to have in his pocket, together with string, a
well-stocked pincushion, a supply of boxes, and a bottle
half full of proof spirits of wine), and lay open the
interior economy of the nest.

86 OUT OF DOORS.

The spot in which the combs, if they can be so
called, are placed, is always enlarged into a rudely
globular apartment, in which are found a number of
egg-shaped cells — not waxen and brittle like those of
the hive bee, but brown in colour, and tough, soft, and
of a leathery consistence. Neither are they arranged
in a regular series, like the cells of the honey bee,
wasp, or hornet, but are jumbled together without any
apparent order, compacted into masses, and adhering
to each other with tolerable firmness. Some of them
contain honey of the sweetest and most fragrant cha-
racter. Header, beware that honey, or prepare for a
headache and a giddiness for the next six or seven
hours. Why the honey should have this effect, or
whether it acts in the same manner upon all persons, I
cannot say. I know, however, that in my own case,
and in that of many others who have also had practical
experience of this wild honey, the results have been
almost identical. The remaining cells contain young
humble-bees in every stage of their existence.

Interesting though the subject may be, I cannot
within this limited space pursue it much further,
although I should greatly like to say something of the
economy of the sylvan home, and the wondrously modi-
fied structure of its inmates as they pass through their
several phases of existence. Let me, however, very
earnestly commend the humble-bee as an admirable
subject for those who desire to study this portion of
natural history for themselves. The creatures are of

A WALK THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 87

large size, easily obtained ; and in a single nest
examples may be found of the various states of this
bee, from the little white grub to the perfect insect of
either sex.

One curious story must yet be told of this subter-
ranean home. Within the nest there are sometimes
found a few white grubs, clearly not those of the
humble-bee, as they are larger, straighter, and have a
row of spikes set around the larger end. If you manage
to remove the nest and put it into a box, so as to keep
its inmates prisoners, the mystery will be solved, in
time, by the appearance of some flies exceedingly re-
sembling the humble-bee, but belonging to a different
order of insects — having only two wings instead of
four. This is one of the beautiful hovering flies, scien-
tifically termed a volucella, the young of which finds
its food within the nests of these bees. The humble-

*

bees are quite aware of the injury to their community
which results from the intrusion of the volucella, and
are extremely vigilant in their watch to prevent its
intrusion. But the intruder is so like the insect into
whose house it hopes to make its way, that the two
can hardly be discerned from each other at a little dis-
tance ; and so the volucella contrives to take advantage
of an unguarded moment, slips by the sentries, and
deposits her eggs. Having once succeeded in perform-
ing this feat, she cares no longer for her own safety,
but walks boldly out of the nest as if she had a perfect

88 OUT OF DOORS.

right of passage. I have sometimes taken four or five
of these grubs out of a single nest.

A near relation of this dipterous Paul Pry may often
be found about the blackberries while they are in
blossom. It is remarkable for the curious fact that the
basal half of its abdomen is so transparent as to permit
the colour of the leaves or petals to be seen through it.
One of these flies, now before me, is so extremely trans-
parent that when I place it on the paper on which I am
writing the ink-marks can be seen through its substance,
though not so clearly as to be readable, owing probably
to the convexity of the abdomen. There are several
British flies whose bodies are only semi-opaque, but
there is none that can compare with the present example
in the almost crystalline pellucidity of its structure. In
consequence of this peculiarity it is called Volucella
translucens.

A few paragraphs are now due to those much-dreaded
insects, the wasp and the hornet, both of which may be
found within the compass of our English Lane.

There are several kinds of British wasps, all very
much alike in general appearance, but recognizable to
the entomological eye by sundry slight, but legible marks.
Some of these insects suspend their nests from trees, but
the commonest species follow the example of the humble-
bee, and choose a subterranean abode. Suppose now
that we lay siege to a wasp's nest, as we have lately done
to that of the humble-bee. 'Ware stings here, for there
is no creature more irritable than your wasp, and it is

A WALK THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 89

by no means safe to go within hailing distance of a large
nest. Even the exterior of their habitation presents a
very different aspect to that of the humble-bee.

It is a busy scene. Around the entrance are crowd-
ing hundreds of yellow and black striped armed warriors,
like the Pontifical guard on a small scale — some leaving
the nest, and others hovering around for a few moments
before entering, as if to inquire if all is well. You need
not listen at the door of the establishment, for the hum-
ming buzz is quite audible, and the waspish temper is
proverbial. I saw one nest whose inhabitants used to
worry passengers to a great degree, and even attacked
horses, and stung one poor animal so severely that it
died from the effects of its many wounds. Sometimes
a poor field-mouse, overtaken by a storm, runs into the
apparently empty hole for shelter, but soon comes
running out again, so covered with wasps that it looks
like a yellow ball as it rolls down the bank beset with
its angry foes. One of my friends, who saw a mouse
thus assailed, calculated that from twenty to thirty wasps
were at one time on the unfortunate mouse.

The nest of the wasp ought to be very carefully re-
moved, so that its structure may be studied. If the
nests of the hive-bee, the humble-bee, and the wasp be
compared, they will be found to be made after three
different fashions.

The combs of the hive-bee, are, as is well known,
made of wax, secreted in certain little pockets situate
in the abdomen. The edges of the cells are strengthened

90 OUT OF DOORS.

with a kind of cement obtained from various trees, and
their shape is that of hexagonal or six-sided tubes, set
closely against each other, and practically carrying out
the interesting problem of giving the largest amount of
space with the smallest expenditure of material and
labour. On the other hand, the cells of the humble-bee
are oval, and without any attempt at regular arrange-
ment. The walls of the cell are tough and leathery ;
and, when subjected to the microscope, their structure is
resolvable into a number of regular silken fibres, cross-
ing each other in a kind of meshless network, and
agglutinated together by some other substance. But
the cell of the wasp is of a very different character from
both, and is composed of different substances.

The wasp makes his nest of veritable paper — not
quite so white or so fine as that employed in the print-
ing of this book, but paper nevertheless, and made of
vegetable fibre, torn to shreds, pulped in water, and then
spread into sheets and dried. Any one may see the
insect hard at work at its natural paper-mill. Gro to any
old post or decaying tree, and there may be seen the
wasps in full energy employed most zealously upon their
work. Look at them closely— for they will allow them-
selves to be watched while thus occupied— and you will
soon see the process in its earlier stages. With its
strong jaws the wasp bites away fibre after fibre of the
decaying wood, and continues to select a sufficient num-
ber to make up into a little bundle. It is very
fastidious about the quality of the fibres, and rejects

A WALK THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 91

almost as many as it retains. When it has obtained a
sufficient load, it begins to champ and gnaw the fibres
very diligently, moistening them at the same time with
a drop of fluid, and being evidently absorbed in its work.
Off it flies to its nest : but as we cannot see it there, we
must take up a bit of wasp comb and discover how it
builds up the cells.

On examination, we find that the walls of each cell
are composed of this woody pulp, laid in regular strata,
which are easily perceptible by the aid of a pocket
magnifier. The walls are very flimsy, and cannot hold
liquid ; but as the English wasps make no honey, and
store no food, this is of no consequence. The combs are
arranged in regular layers, one above the other, each layer
having all the open ends of the cells downward, and the
closed ends forming a floor on which the insects can
walk while traversing the space between the combs for
the purpose of feeding the young grubs. Each layer ia
supported by a number of little pillars, about a third of
an inch in length, made of the same papier mache sub-
stance as the cells, very much more solid and compact ;
and here and there a pillar is made very thick where
the comb requires to be strengthened. On examination
most of the cells will be found to be inhabited by white
grubs, in every stage of growth. Many of the cells will
be covered with white silken convex roofs, through
which the black eyes of the future wasps often appear.
The cells are not quite parallel with each other, but
radiate slightly from the centre of each comb towards

92 OUT OF DOORS.

the circumference. The whole nest, containing some
six or seven layers of comb, is enveloped in a kind of
outer case, composed of the same paper-like substance
as the cells, but of a much coarser consistence, and laid

*

on in large loose flakes, in which the semicircular sweep
of the wasp's head leaves its marks.

I have seen a very curious little wasp's nest taken
from the neighbourhood of Balaclava during the
Crimean war. All the stray wood was picked up and
used for fuel, so that the wasps were deprived of their
ordinary material. They soon, however, found a simple
substitute, and made their nests of the blue and white
cartridge-paper that is strewn in such quantities on a
battle-field.

The wasp, although it makes no honey, is very fond
of eating it, and is always allured towards any sweet
substances with the same instinctive force which attracts
the school-boy to the toffee-shop, or the infant to the
sugar-basin. Eipe fruits are a great banquet to this
marauder, who prefers the peaches, plums, and apricots
to any other diet, and always chooses the juiciest and
best flavoured upon the trees. But it is carnivorous
also, and is a sad enemy to flies, to whom it is as deadly
a foe as a winged spider would be. But here a poetical
justice often overtakes the spoiler, for the hornet, shaped
like himself, but just as much bigger, stronger, and
fiercer as a tiger excels a leopard in these qualities, is
particularly fond of wasps, and may be seen prowling
about their haunts, sweeping upon them with a rush

A WALK THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 93

like that of the falcon, and carrying them off with ease,
despite their wings and stings. It is rather curious
that the hornet will not eat the head or the abdomen of
the wasp, but shears them off with its strong jaws, bites
off the wings and legs, and then crunches up the re-
mainder just as we eat a radish. Sometimes the hornet
flies to the branch of a neighbouring tree with the poor
wasp in his jaws, and there slinging himself by one foot,
he employs the remaining limbs in holding and arrang-
ing his victim to his satisfaction.

Here comes whirring along, rich in flashing green
and glittering wings, the great dragon-fly, acknow-
ledged tyrant of the air. He is arrowy-swift of wing,
and there are few insects that can escape him. He
cares little for birds, the general enemies of the insect
tribe, for even the swift or the swallow cannot catch him,
unless they come upon him unawares. See how he
darts here and there, sometimes backing, by suddenly
reversing the action of his wings with a sound like the
ruffling of a small silken flag, and ever and anon pounc-
ing upon some unfortunate insect as it flies along. Not
even the broad-winged butterfly, with its erratic flight,
can escape this dragon insect, although it gives him a
hard chase. I have seen the poor butterfly dodge about
like a startled snipe, or a coursed hare, in hope of
escaping its terrible enemy ; but all in vain. After two
or three turns the dragon-fly succeeded in closing with
its prey, and bore it unresisting through the air. As
he flew along, wing after wing of the butterfly dropped

94 OUT OF DOORS.

from his mouth, and fluttered slowly through the air.
For the dragon-fly was hungry, and was making the
most of his time by devouring one victim while looking
out for another.

If you want to observe him nearer, you can do so
easily enough. Wait until he flies in your direction,
and meet him with a firm sweep of the net. Down with
the net on the ground, and seize the fierce creature, for
he is biting his way through the gauze at a wonderful
rate.

Take him out by his wings, and don't be afraid ; for
he cannot sting, though he is popularly called * horse-
stinger ' by the rustics. Turn him on his back, and see
how quickly and deeply he breathes, and how wonder-
fully the body is formed to permit of respiration. Pray
do not think he is frightened. Not in the least ; and
we will prove it. Under the influence of terror, no
creature will eat. But just take that fly out of the
spider's web, and hold it to our dragon's mouth ! See !
he crunches it up in a moment ; his mouth opens four
ways at once ; two pair of jaws and one pair of horny
lips close on the fly and he is gone, with a snap and a
bite, like a mutton chop down a Newfoundland dog's
throat. Then you may give him the spider, and he will
eat that too. He is very fond of spiders ; and from
certain observations, not yet published, I have a notion
that spiders are almost necessary to these creatures,
under certain circumstances. Try him with a beetle.
Down it goes, but not so rapidly, the hard wing-cases

A WALK THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 95

having to be removed — which is done very adroitly and
without pause. Will he eat a wasp ? Certainly he will ;
and though I never tried him with a hornet, they being
unchancy insects to hold while one hand is otherwise
engaged, I have little doubt but that the hornet would
soon disappear into the same receptacle with the other
insects. You may go on catching insects for him as
long as you like, and he will go on eating them, having
no apparent limit to capacity. I once gave a dragon-
fly thirty-seven large flies and four long-legged spiders,
and only ceased because I was tired of catching before
he was tired of eating.

Having admired him sufliciently, let him go. Off
he darts to a branch, sits down for a moment, shakes
his wings, as if to assure himself that they are fit for
service, and then flashes off, as cruel and as voracious
as if he had been fasting for a week. He does not
spend all his time after this fashion, though he was
always a predacious creature. His first few years were
passed in the water, where he lurked under the banks,
and chased the aquatic insects as fiercely as, when he
got his wings, he pursued the inhabitants of air. In
fact, the only change in him is that he was first a
crocodile and then a dragon.

What beautiful butterflies, too, flit through our
lane, varying with the time of day and the season of
the year. There is the magnificent peacock butterfly,
with its glorious ' eyes ' upon the wings, like the spots
on a peacock's train ; the atalanta, or scarlet admiral,

96 OUT OF DOORS.

with its black wings edged with azure and crossed with
a broad scarlet band; and possibly even the white
admiral, the elegant Camilla, may come flying along
with that easy sweep of wing and that exceeding grace
of movement which have earned for this insect the
name of her who could skim over the waves without
sinking, or over the ears of corn without bending their
heads. Let us catch the peacock, just to look at the
under-surface of the eyes. What a singular change.
Instead of the varied colours which bedeck the upper
surface, the whole of the under wing is deep brownish
black, mottled and streaked by darker hues. Why is
this ? For a very sufficient reason, i.e., to prevent the
brilliant insect from being betrayed by its bright
plumage. If alarmed, it instantly flies to some dark
object, such as a tree trunk, closes its wings over its back,
so that merely the dark under-surface is visible, and looks
just like a dead leaf, or a strip of loose bark. When it
was a caterpillar this was a curious creature, actually
living on the stinging-nettle, and being itself covered
with an array of handspikes curious to behold. I have
bred hundreds of them and other butterflies from their
earliest stages, and always found it to be the surest way
of obtaining perfect specimens. Only, they must be
liberally supplied with fresh food, or when they emerge
from the chrysalis they are small and stunted.

Euphrosyne shakes her dappled wings from yonder
thistle-top, the light sparkling from her silver jewelled
plumes as she gently waves them in the sunbeams ; over

A WALK THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 97

the grass-tops flits the exquisite Azure Blue, looking
like a little bit of sky, bedropped with stars, that has
come down on earth to gladden our eyes with its deli-
cate beauty ; and the bright Copperwing glides before
us in glowing refulgence, as if its wings were veritably
made of burnished gold. Moths, too, are not wanting,
for the mottled Currant Moth flutters in and out of the
hedge, displaying the rich cream and chestnut of its
plumage. The Burnet Moth comes uneasily along with
errant flight, pausing now and then long enough to
show its green velvet coat, faced and trimmed with
scarlet ; and the swift Humming-bird Moth, agile as its
feathered prototype, darts through the branches, poises
itself on whirring wings before a flower, plunges its long
proboscis into the nectary, and, taking some sudden
alarm, is off like a lightning-flash.

Then there are the common but very beautiful
tortoiseshell butterflies ; the Janira, with its rich mottled
brown plumage, and a host of others. If I could only
be allowed the whole of this book for a description
of a single insect, I might hope to do partial justice
to the subject; but, under the present circumstances,
we can only take a casual glance at each creature.
White butterflies, of course, are flitting about every-
where. These may be destroyed mercilessly, or rather,
mercifully. For pretty and harmless as they look,
and as they indeed are, they are the parents of those
horrid black, yellow, and green caterpillars that de-
vastate our cabbage-gardens, and injure the temper

H

98 OUT OF DOORS.

of a hurried cook. I say mercifully killed — because the
caterpillar must be killed before we can eat the plant ;
and it is surely more merciful to kill one butterfly than
some sixty or seventy of its future offspring.

The handsome Scarlet Hopper comes skipping and
jumping so actively about the leaves that to catch it is
no easy matter. This pretty creature, with its scarlet
and black clothing, is a near relative of the insect that
forms the ' cuckoo spit,' so destructive to our garden
plants.

Let us go a little farther down the Lane, towards
that patch of bare sandy ground, and find out something
about those bright blue flies that are dashing about it
so vigorously. See how they alight on the tawny soil,
and how fast they run over its surface ! Now we see
that they are not flies at all, but beetles, albeit they
take to flight as readily, and are as active on the wing,
as the blue-bottle flies, which they so closely resemble
while in the air. Catch one of them in the net as it
flies along, and examine it. What a pleasant perfume
issues from its body ! Surely it must have been feeding
on roses and verbenas. No, it is a totally carnivorous
insect, and rapacious to boot, and the agreeable scent is
part of the mystery of its nature. There is another
beetle, very much larger, being at least ten times its size,
called the Musk Beetle, which possesses a powerful rosy
perfume, and, curious enough, is coloured after the same
beautiful fashion. Our little lively friend is called the
Tiger Beetle ; and well does it deserve the name, for

A WALK THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 99

a winged tiger would not be more destructive among
beasts than is the tiger-beetle among insects. What
enormous projecting eyes it has ('the better to see you
with, my dear,') and what long and powerful fangs
(' the better to eat you with '). How firmly it is clad
in bright and shining mail, deep, steely blue below, and
green bedropped with gold and crimson above. Just
look at its wing-cases through the pocket-magnifier,
and see what a wondrously magnificent creature it is.
Solomon was not robed half so gloriously as the lilies,
nor were the Nepaulese princes half so gorgeously be-
gemmed as this little beetle. Take it home; put it
under the inch-power of the microscope, concentrate
the light upon it with the condenser, and then say
whether the jewelled beauties of Aladdin's palace could
compare with the dazzling radiance of our little tiger-
beetle ! Fancy a few square yards of golden network
set closely with emeralds, sapphires, and rubies as large
as hazel nuts, and with diamonds as big and of more
fiery splendour than the Koh-i-noor ; illuminate them
with the electric light, and you will then have some idea
of the raiment with which God clothes even the smallest
of his creatures. None can have the least conception
of the hidden magnificence of the every-day objects
around them except those who have studied them with
a true and observant eye, and a sympathising and
loving heart ; and none but these can form so exalted
an idea of the glories of a future life, which the earthly
eye of man cannot see, nor his heart even conceive.

H 2

100 OUT OF DOORS.

Now let us turn a glance towards the little streamlet
caused by the drainage of the neighbouring fields, which
has been quietly wending through its rushy path by
our sides. Look steadily at every part of it, and the
water becomes as thickly peopled as the land and air.
On every side abundant living creatures are seen passing
through the waters, some slowly, others rapidly, while
many ascend from the bed of the stream, come for a
moment to the surface, and dive away out of sight. The
Water Boatman is very fond of that pursuit. A queer-
looking creature is he, as he lies on his back in the
water, his body shaped just like the hull of a ship, and
his two long legs extended like oars on each side, and
used after the same fashion. Catch him in the net,
and look at him nearer — only take care of fingers ; for
although the boatman cannot bite, he has a strong and
sharp proboscis, and if carelessly held will startle his
captor by inflicting a rather painful wound. Under
his hard shelly wing-cases he has a beautiful pair of
large membranous wings ; and at nightfall he leaves the
water and takes to the air, mostly on some matrimonial
business. At dawn he returns to the water, letting
himself drop, with closed wings, from a great height.
Sometimes the poor boatman falls into a sad error, and,
mistaking glass for water, drops upon a greenhouse or
a skylight, and kills himself with the shock.

In the more rapid and clearer parts of the stream,
the Fresh- Water Shrimp may be seen driving itself
through the familiar element by a series of jerks ; now

A WALK THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 101

letting itself be carried down the stream for a foot or
two, now recovering its position with a few strokes, and
now scuttling aside in a desperate fuss, and hiding
under a stone.

Perhaps, if we are very lucky, we may find one of
the "Water Spiders, and its wonderful nest, made
exactly on the same principle as the diving-bell. The
creature makes a silken bag under water, attached to
some plant to keep it in its place. She then comes to
the surface, gathers up a bubble of air, dives with it
into her nest, lets it loose there, and returns to the
surface for another supply. Each successive bubble
displaces an equal amount of water, and in a short
time the strange little architect has got a submerged
palace, in which she can live as safely as on land. But,
just now, we shall have to use our eyes very carefully
to see the spider in her house, for the present rage for
aquatic and marine vivaria has set a price on the head
of the water-spider, and the country is ransacked by
speculators to such an extent that where fifty such
spiders might have been found in a single stream
scarcely one can now be discovered. It is a cruel thing
to take the poor spider away from her natural home
and put her in an aquarium. She always dies soon ;
for although she may spin her wondrous house she can-
not find her proper food, and is sure, before long, to
succumb to her altered fortunes.

If we poke away the mud at the side of the stream,
we shall probably come on some of the curious larvae

102 OUT OF DOORS.

or grubs of the dragon-fly, which has already been
mentioned, and may observe the funny way in which
he propels himself forward by squirting water back-
ward, having within him a 4 direct action ' propeller.
Then his 'mask' is worthy of an examination. See
how cleverly it is jointed to fit over his face, and how
the formidable jaws at its extremity lie close to the
head, so as to excite no alarm. Then see him dart out
this mask to its full extent, snap up a passing insect
in his jaws, and carry it to his mouth as an elephant
picks up an apple and puts it into its mouth. If you
like, you may take him home and keep him in a vessel
of water, only he wants so much food that he is almost
more trouble than he is worth — unless you have some
special reason for watching his habits. He will eat
little fish largely ; and if you stock your water-vessel
with young fry, this voracious creature will soon finish
them.

Here comes from the bed of the brooklet the
acknowledged tyrant of the waters, the great Water
Beetle. He is so big that no insect can overcome him
— so securely mailed that no insect, except his own
kind, can hurt him — so swift that no aquatic insect
can escape him ; and so voracious that no amount of
food seems to satisfy him. Even the dragon-fly grub
had better keep out of his way ; for he would soon be
treated with poetical justice, and surfer the same fate
he had so ofbeR inflicted upon others. Catch him,
and hold him safely — taking care of your hands, for he

A WALK. THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 103

can cut clean through the top of your finger if he gets
a fair bite at it — and see how wonderfully he is made.
The two fore-feet are swollen into circular cushion-like
pads, which, if examined under the microscope, are seen
to be set close with suckers of various sizes. Then his
spiracles, or breathing-holes, are arranged under his
convex wing-covers, which fit so truly against each
other that they enclose a large quantity of air, which
the beetle respires while he is below the water. It is
to obtain a fresh supply of air that he comes to the
surface, cocks up his tail, and dives perpendicularly
downwards.

It will be of no use to take him home, for he must
be kept by himself, or he would kill all other inhabitants
of the aquarium in a few days ; and he is so voracious
that he requires nearly as much looking after as a young
nestling. He will not even endure the company of his
own species ; and if another water-beetle be introduced,
they will fight to the death. Even if you give him a
companion of the gentler sex, his character loses none
of its fierceness ; and the two not only begin matrimony
with a little aversion, but end it with the same — the
conqueror always killing and eating the vanquished.
How often have I not warned recent possessors of aquaria
to beware the water-beetle ; and how often have I not
witnessed their despair at the death of all their stock,
and the escape of the murderer, who has just taken to
his wings and flown out of the window ! The grub of
the water-beetle is also aquatic, and one of the most

102 OUT OF DOORS.

or grubs of the dragon-fly, which has already been
mentioned, and may observe the funny way in which
he propels himself forward by squirting water back-
ward, having within him a ' direct action ' propeller.
Then his 'mask' is worthy of an examination. See
how cleverly it is jointed to fit over his face, and how
the formidable jaws at its extremity lie close to the
head, so as to excite no alarm. Then see him dart out
this mask to its full extent, snap up a passing insect
in his jaws, and carry it to his mouth as an elephant
picks up an apple and puts it into its mouth. If you
like, you may take him home and keep him in a vessel
of water, only he wants so much food that he is almost
more trouble than he is worth — unless you have some
special reason for watching his habits. He will eat
little fish largely ; and if you stock your water-vessel
with young fry, this voracious creature will soon finish
them.

Here comes from the bed of the brooklet the
acknowledged tyrant of the waters, the great Water
Beetle. He is so big that no insect can overcome him
— so securely mailed that no insect, except his own
kind, can hurt him — so swift that no aquatic insect
can escape him ; and so voracious that no amount of
food seems to satisfy him. Even the dragon-fly grub
had better keep out of his way ; for he would soon be
treated with poetical justice, and suffer the same fate
he had so often inflicted upon others. Catch him,
and hold him safely — taking care of your hands, for he

A WALK. THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 103

can cut clean through the top of your finger if he gets
a fair bite at it — and see how wonderfully he is made.
The two fore-feet are swollen into circular cushion-like
pads, which, if examined under the microscope, are seea
to be set close with suckers of various sizes. Then his
spiracles, or breathing-holes, are arranged under his
convex wing-covers, which fit so truly against each
other that they enclose a large quantity of air, which
the beetle respires while he is below the water. It is
to obtain a fresh supply of air that he comes to the
surface, cocks up his tail, and dives perpendicularly
downwards.

It will be of no use to take him home, for he must
be kept by himself, or he would kill all other inhabitants
of the aquarium in a few days ; and he is so voracious
that he requires nearly as much looking after as a young
nestling. He will not even endure the company of his
own species ; and if another water-beetle be introduced,
they will fight to the death. Even if you give him a
companion of the gentler sex, his character loses none
of its fierceness ; and the two not only begin matrimony
with a little aversion, but end it with the same — the
conqueror always killing and eating the vanquished.
How often have I not warned recent possessors of aquaria
to beware the water-beetle ; and how often have I not
witnessed their despair at the death of all their stock,
and the escape of the murderer, who has just taken to
his wings and flown out of the window ! The grub of
the water-beetle is also aquatic, and one of the most

104 OUT OF DOORS.

repulsive and diabolical-looking creatures in existence.
It is a great, fat, brown grub, as long as your finger,
with a round, cruel-looking head, and a pair of huge
crooked jaws, like two sickle-blades set on the head.
Its voracity is wonderful. If you put one of these
grubs in a water-tank, and then a piece of meat into
the water, the grub seizes on it with its jaws, and keeps
its hold for hours at a time. Should two or three of
the water-beetle grubs be in the same vessel they will
seize upon the meat ; and if pushed with a stick will
revolve like a wheel, all their heads being fastened to
the meat, and all their tails radiating outwards.

Now let us walk on towards that shady pool through
which our streamlet flows, and which has been deepened
and embanked, and set round with trees, and guarded
with stakes, to make it a fit drinking-place for the
cattle. Nothing for a time is perceptible in the water,
except those multitudinous little beings which are just
large enough to be visible to the naked eye, and which
are always playing through the water like motes in a
sunbeam. Presently a small ' pop ' is heard, a bubble
is seen breaking, and just below the spot where the
rippling circles arise, an indistinct gleam of orange and
scarlet is seen through the disturbed water. "Watch
the spot carefully, and presently the same waving,
orange may be seen coming up from below, and assum-
ing the form of a lizard-like reptile, some five inches
long, with four legs, a well-developed tail, flattened at
the sides to aid the creature in swimming — a beautiful

A WALK THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 105

crimson-stained and undulating crest, extending from the
head along the back, and waving with every movement
in the most elegant and graceful manner. This is the
Triton, or common Water Newt, otherwise known by the
name of the Eft, Effet, and Evat. He mostly lives in the
water, and can exist for some minutes without needing
to take breath. Every now and then, however, he
must come to the surface to take a fresh supply of air,
and in so doing he makes that odd little popping sound
which we just now heard. He does not always wear
that beautiful coat, for, like many of the birds, he only
puts on his fine clothes during the matrimonial season,
and for the rest of the year is clad as soberly as his
mate.

Here he comes again ; so slip the net under him
quickly, and fish him out. Do not be afraid of him —
he is one of the most harmless of beings, albeit he is
popularly reported by rustics to spit fire, and to kill
cows, and to bite pieces out of people's arms, and to
sting like a viper, together with various other ill
qualities ; just as if he combined in his innocent five
inches of dark tawny black and orange spotted belly
all the demerits of the Dragon of Wantley, the rattle-
snake, and the snapping turtle. Indeed, they could not
display more fear of either member of that redoubtable
trio than they exhibit when you pick up a newt and
bring it towards them. As for yourself, your impunity
will be set down, not to the harmlessness of the newt,
but to some unholy compact with the powers of dark-

106 OUT Of DOORS.

ness. However, undeterred by such fears, let us ex-
.amine the pretty creature more closely. Being out of
the water, his beautiful crest is hardly visible, lying
loosely along the back like the folded wings of a bat.
See what lovely eyes the creature has, gleaming like
fiery topaz, and unrivalled except by the eye of the
toad. Put him down on the grass, and see how nimbly
he runs to the water, and how he darts off with a
powerful wriggle of his tail as soon as he finds himself
safe. You will not catch him again very easily, for he
has got a fright, and will take very good care of himself.
If you look very carefully upon the slender leaves of
the aquatic plant, you will probably find here and
there a delicate, translucent, oval-shaped object, shorter,
but thicker, than a grain of rice, but with the leaf
curiously knotted over it. This is the egg of the newt,
the tying of the leaf being performed by the forelegs —
and a wonderful operation to see. There is much more
interesting history respecting this pretty reptile, but
other creatures are awaiting us, and we must pass on-
wards. I may just mention here that Mr. Knapp, in
his ' Journal of a Naturalist,' remarks that he has seen
the newts curiously encumbered with little bivalve
shells on which they have trodden, and which have
closed upon their unfortunate feet.

EVENING is now drawing on ; we retrace our steps
through the Lane, and a new set of beings have come
forth. The busy hum of insects has ceased, and the

A WALK THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 107

air is almost silent, except for certain odd squeaking
noises that reach our ears. They cannot be made by
a mouse, for they are too shrill ; and besides, they come
from above, and not from the earth. True, I can
exactly imitate the sound by rubbing two keys together,
but as keys don't go flying through the air, it will be
safer to attribute the sound to the Bats, which are just
coming abroad to begin their evening's work of gnat-
hunting. Here they come ! One, two, three — ten,
twenty of them, fluttering with erratic but rapid wing
like black butterflies against the darkening sky, and
filling the air with their tiny shrieks, that pierce the
ear like audible needles. You may catch a bat easily
enough by sweeping the net sharply across its course as
it flies down the Lane : only be chary of handling it,
for its coat is always full of parasites which are by no
means pleasant to look at. Put it on the ground, and
see how beautifully its long membranous ears are
formed, and into what graceful curves they are thrown,
as the creature shuffles over the ground with that
ludicrously awkward hobble which always reminds one
of jumping in sacks. See, it spreads its wings and
tries to fly, but only succeeds in tumbling on its nose.
At last it scrambles to the top of the path, flings itself
into the ditch — and so obtains sufficient impulse for its
wings, and goes gladly off through the air.

Look under the hedge, and see how that leaf is
moving along the ground, as if by magic. Stoop very
gently, and you will see that a Worm has got hold of

108 OUT OF DOORS.

its point, and is dragging it towards his hole. I dare
say that many who read this account will have seen in
their gardens certain leaves sticking with their points
in the ground, without knowing how they came in
such a position. I did not know until last year, when
I saw the whole process.

At dusk the worms begin to crawl out of their
houses to hold friendly converse with their neighbours,
and to survey the country. They never come entirely
out of the hole, always leaving a joint or two within
the aperture, by means of which they can retreat in a
moment if alarmed. If you suddenly jerk a worm out
of its hole it is quite at a loss ; and even if you replace
it by the former habitation it cannot find its old home,
but is perforce obliged to make another. Watching
these creatures is by no means an easy task, as they
hate light, and seldom appear out of their holes except
in the dusk, so that it is necessary to come quite close
before they can be seen at all ; and a lantern cannot be
employed, as its glare would at once send them back
into the darkness of their homes. The head of the
worm is gently thrust into the air, the body follows,
and then the creature begins to peer about in various
directions, extending and contracting its body with
great ease and rapidity. Presently it comes across a
fallen leaf, pokes it about for a minute or two, seizes it
by the point, and draws it to its home, always managing
to hold it in such a way that when the leaf is dragged
into the ground it is partially curled up. The worms

A WALK THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 109

will take almost any leaf, though they evince strong
partiality when they have a choice. Laurel, and other
evergreen leaves, they care little about, though, in de-
fault of others, they will use one of these. But if a
lilac leaf be laid on the ground, the worm is sure to
find it out, will reject the laurel in favour of the lilac,
and draw the latter homewards. The great favourite,
however, seems to be the primrose leaf, for which the
worm will desert any other plant. It is curious to see
how long worms can make themselves when they want
to reach a leaf at a distance, and how thread-like thej
then become.

In order to experiment upon them, I have laid
leaves with their stalks towards the hole, and always
found that in such cases the worm would feel its waj
along the edge of the leaf, get hold of the point, twist
it round so swiftly that the eye can hardly follow the
movement, and then whisk it off homewards as if it
were moved by a spring. No doubt, if we could dis-
cover some means of investigating them, we should find
the habits of the worms as interesting as those of the
insects.

Now the dew is collecting rapidly on the leaves,
and out come the Snail and Slug tribes from their
hiding-places. Evening is the time for shell collectors,
as the lantern beams penetrate the dark recesses of
foliage, and bring out in bright relief the polished shells
as they move among the herbage. Among the chief
favourites of the juvenile mind may be reckoned the

-i!2 OUT OF DOORS.

fringe of the purest white. Even the body is clothed
in snowy down ; and as the White Plume Moth flutters
from one spot to another — for it never seems to take a
long flight — it may easily be mistasen for a snow flake
floating on the wind.

The great Hawk Moths now come dashing along,
like the birds from whom they derive their name — and
whom they resemble in no slight degree while on the
wing— darting towards each flower and drinking its
sweet contents by inserting their long trunks into its
recesses, while they remain hovering in the air. You
need not try to catch them, for the simplest plan to
procure the most perfect specimens is by digging in
autumn under any tree, wall, private hedge or paling,
when you will find plenty of them in their chrysalis
state ; and may procure the moths in absolute perfection
by keeping them until the succeeding summer, when
they will burst from their shells and come forth in their
full beauty of unsullied plumage.

Now the Summer Chaffers and Dor Beetles come
out of their retreats, bump against our face, or cling to
our clothes, without seeming in the least discomposed
by their sudden arrest. The former insect is a dread-
fully destructive one, eating the grass-roots while it is
a grub, and the trees when it is a perfect insect, and
sometimes stripping tree after tree of its foliage. To
the meditative saunterer at the evening hour it is an
intolerable nuisance, irritating him with its buzzing
hum even at his ear, sticking in his hair, dashing across

A WALK THROUGH AN ENGLISH LANE. 113

his eyes, scratching his nose, and breaking up his train
of thought in a lamentable manner. The Dor, with its
beautiful purple-green body and helmeted head, is not
nearly so tiresome — although it does occasionally thump
us as it < wheels its droning flight,' or startles us with its
deep, heavy drone at our ears.

There is another beetle to whom we are more lenient.
The Glowworm has just begun to light her blue-green
lamp— a very Hero holding forth a torch to her Leander,
who is flying above, and anxiously looking out for the
welcome signal. See ! down he comes with a wheel and
furling of gauzy wings within their dark cases ; and you
may see Hero and Leander safely met. But how very
odd ! Hero is not one bit like Leander. She does not
seem to belong even to the same class of beings, much
less to the same species, as her lover. Leander is a
long-bodied, wide-headed, brisk-looking beetle, with
two ample pellucid wings enclosed in their protecting
shields; whereas Hero is a flattish, slow, crawling,
ordinary-looking, rather repulsive brown grub, with
never a vestige of wing and nothing to recommend her
to notice. Pick her up quietly, by gathering the leaf
on which she sits ; take her home ; lay her on a bit of
moist turf, and she will soon shine out for your gratifi-
cation. But if you want her to be particularly resplen-
dent, just pour a stream of oxygen gas through the
vessel in which she is placed, and you will then see a
blaze of natural illumination that can only be equalled
by the many fire-flies of tropical regions.

114 OUT OF DOORS.

Calm and quiet is the evening now, the sounds of
labour are hushed and the bright songs of happy birds
are stilled in sleep. But Nature has her vespers as
well as her orisons ; the shrill cry of the bat and the
deep humming of the circling beetle are psalms of praise
as intelligible to sympathetic hearts as the sweet melody
of feathered throats, or the pleasant sounds of busy
insect wings. We who enjoy the blessed privilege of
holding such sweet communion with Nature, and whose
spirits are made capable of perceiving the Creator
through the various forms in which He manifests His
love, cannot do less than add our own heartfelt praises
to those of all created things, with fervent thanks for
the past, and loving trust for the future.

115

THE WOOD ANT.

WITHIN a reasonable walk of my house there is a small
wood which affords opportunities of watching the habits
of many creatures. It is planted upon more than one
kind of soil, so that a plentiful supply of plants is found
within its limits, and, as a necessary consequence, many
insects live upon the plants ; predacious insects come to
eat their harmless kinsfolk, and birds come to eat both
the cannibals and their victims.

This place is a favourite resort of the Wood Ants,
which have built their fragile but enduring nests in many
sheltered spots, and have driven their wonderful paths
through almost every part of the wood. For some
years I have passed many pleasant hours every summer
among the trees, and found the day only too short for
the many observations that came under my notice.
The best way to take advantage of a wood is to set out
with the intention of watching some particular creature,
and to give up one's time exclusively to that single
object ; not failing, of course, to mark any point of
interest that may present itself respecting other beings
that may come within ken, and to jot it down in a note-
book.

i 2

]13 OUT OF DOORS.

This insect, which may be known by its large size
and reddish thorax, is one of the stingless ants, though
it is quite as formidable an antagonist as those species
which possess those sharp and envenomed darts. For
though the wood-ant has no sting, it -yet has a store of
poison, and can use its venomous powers effectively,
though in a more roundabout manner than is adopted
by the sting-bearers.

It is a most fierce and determined creature, the
sense of fear seeming to have been wholly omitted from
its composition. It will attack anything and anybody
without the least hesitation, and possesses all the courage
without the cunning exhibited by the Lilliputians in
their memorable attack on the Man Mountain. For a
man is to the wood-ant not only a moving mountain,
but a moving world ; and yet there is not a single ant
that will not attack a man, if it fancies him to be in too
close proximity to its residence.

Urged by some wonderful instinct, it makes at once
for the nearest unprotected skin, bites fiercely with its
sharp and calliper-shaped jaws, and simultaneously bind-
ing its body so as to bring the tip of the abdomen to
bear upon the wound, squirts a small drop of its poison
into the cavity, producing for the time a sharp and
painful smarting sensation. The pain, however, is very
transient, although, at the moment it is inflicted, the
pang is quite as severe as that inflicted by the sting of
a wasp. Nor is this its only mode of attack. The wood-
ant is able to eject this poisonous substance to some dis-

THE WOOD ANT. 117

tance, and if a nest be broken open, and a bare hand
placed within the aperture, it will be speedily covered
with a thousand little dots of pungent fluid ; and if the
skin be very sensitive it will smart as though it had
been plunged into a bunch of stinging nettles. The
scent of this fluid is strongly acid, like highly con-
centrated vinegar, and even at a distance of a yard from
the nest produces an unpleasant sensation in the throat
and nostrils.

One of my friends, desirous of testing personally
the peculiar scent, made a breach in the nest of the
wood-ant, and put his face to the hole. Scarcely had
he approached within three inches than he started
back, vowing that the ants had stung him all over his
chin, and could not for some time be convinced of his
error.

This pungent liquid is acid in its nature, and when
analysed is found to contain two kinds of acid, one pe-
culiar to these insects and called ' Formic ' acid, and
the other the substance called ' Malic ' acid, which gives
to the juice of apples its peculiar flavour. Not only has
it the scent of vinegar, but a very good substitute for
that useful article is often made by steeping successive
measures of the wood-ant in boiling water. The sub-
stance called chloroform owes its name to the similarity
between its constituent elements and those of Formic
acid. In chemical language, though not in chemical
formula, Formic acid consists of two atoms of carbon,
one atom of hydrogen, and two atoms of oxygen,

U8 OUT OF DOORS.

while the composition of chloroform is two atoms of
carbon, one atom of hydrogen, and three atoms of
chlorine. It may be casually remarked that Formic
acid can be produced by artificial means.

The nest of this insect is a wonderfully large struc-
ture, when the size of the tiny architects is taken
into consideration, and the regularity with which their
interior is parcelled out into chambers and galleries is
not less surprising. It is made of little pieces of stick,
dried leaves, broken stems of the dried fern, and always
contains the berries of the mountain ash, if any tree of
this kind should happen to be within a moderate dis-
tance. When I first observed the red berries amid the
heap of leaves and sticks, I thought that they had fallen
from a neighbouring tree and been accidentally blown
upon the nest, but I have since found that every nest in
the wood contains these berries, when a mountain ash
was within forty or fifty yards. Their use I cannot
imagine, as the ants do not carry them into the nest, but
merely mix them with the dried substance of the exterior.

The materials of which the nest is composed are
heaped quite loosely and apparently at random on each
other. But if the nest be carefully examined, a certain
order is to be detected, particularly in the entrances
and galleries, which are made of long sticks rudely
arranged across each other, so as to form a five-sided
aperture. If a twig be brought to the nest, its destina-
tion is nearly sure to be at one of the many openings.
Being desirous of ascertaining whether the ants would

THE WOOD ANT. 110

accept extraneous assistance, I broke off a little dried
stick to the shape and size of those that were arranged
about the aperture and laid it upon the others, so as to
match them as nearly as possible. A posse of ants im-
mediately came to look at the new addition, took hold
of it with their jaws, and after making a trifling altera-
tion, for form's sake, I suppose, lest I should be too
conceited about my architectural skill, they allowed it
to remain.

It is most interesting to watch the ants bringing
materials for their home. If an ant finds a little piece
of broken fern stem that is suitable for the outer wall,
he picks it up by one end, holds it out straight before
him as if he were smoking a very large cigar, and sets
off briskly homewards. This mode of carrying his
burden is evidently adopted for the convenience of
steering it through the grass blades, fallen fern, and
other impediments, which, trifling as they appear to
human eyes, are by no means insignificant to the ants.
I have even seen an ant carrying off a grub three times
his own size, holding it in the same manner ; the
strength required for such a feat is truly enormous.

But when a heavier or a larger burden, such as a
piece of stick, has to be transported, a different plan is
adopted. Six or seven ants are detached for the work,
and they set about it with a nicety of purpose that is
really surprising. Grasping it with their jaws they
gradually edge it onward in the right direction, one of
their number always seeming to act as foreman, and

120 OUT OF DOOR1S.

taking hold of the end which seems to be the post of
honour. As long as the ground is tolerably even the
stick is dragged along without difficulty, and the fore-
man or 'ganger' cannot be distinguished from his
fellows save by his position at the end of the stick.
But when they get among broken ground, or if the
stick should perchance fall into a crevice and carry its
leaves with it, the ganger seldom touches the stick ex-
cept to pull it into the proper direction, but runs ahead
to reconnoitre the locality, then returns to the gang,
and is all life and animation. I have seen the clever
little creatures make a mistake, and get the stick into
a labyrinth of broken ferns and twigs, through which
they could by no means steer it, and then seen them
carefully return by the same path until they were clear
of the thicket, and choose another and a smoother road.
On one occasion I watched a gang of ants, six in
number, that had jammed their burden so tightly under
a fern stem that they could proceed no further. They
immediately tried to extricate it, but were checked by
an angular bend in the stick, which had hitched itself
under the fern, and prevented it from being moved in
either direction. Being curious to know how the ants
would surmount the difficulty, and rather fancying that
they would leave the stick and fetch another, I watched
them for nearly two hours. They evidently had no in-
tention of relinquishing their task ; and after a vast
amount of excitement, the ganger getting on the top
of the stick and down again fifty times, they hauled the

THE WOOD ANT. 121

projecting extremity down by main force of numbers,
dragged it from below the impediment, and, I suppose,
got it safely home. The stick was a trifle more than
two inches in length, about as thick as a stout crow-
quill, and at one end had a knot and a sharp bend up-
wards. An idea of the strength exerted in the trans-
portation of this burden may be formed by taking the
comparative sizes of men and ants, magnifying the
piece of stick into a tree trunk of corresponding dimen-
sions, and setting six men to carry that trunk through
a virgin forest, and over ravines and precipices, up
mountains and down valleys, and lastly to the top of
a building shaped something like the great pyramid,
but much more lofty, the sides of which are formed of
loose sticks and logs.

Nothing short of taking away the object of their
labours seems to divert these industrious creatures from
their work. I have laid large flies, little grubs, and
other attractive articles of diet in their way, but they
suffered them to remain unheeded, though, if un-
employed on serious business, they would carry off such
prey as soon as they saw it.

The wood ants seem to be acquainted with the
leading principles of civilisation, their nest being the
centre of a radiating system of roads, extending for a
wonderful distance, and as permanent in their way as
Watling Street, or any of the old Eoman roads which
now traverse our land. Mr. William Howitt tells rne
that he has watched one of these roads for more than

122 OUT OF DOORS.

twenty years, and found that on every fine day it was
crowded with ants going off for plunder, or returning
laden with spoils for the benefit of the community.
Even on wet and cold days, when the ants, who are
chilly beings, wisely stay at home, their roads are
plainly perceptible, and are marked out by their freedom
from bits of stick, leaves, etc., these having been re-
moved by the insects as materials for their nest. It is
always easy to find the nest by following up the road,
and the right direction can be at once learned by fol-
lowing the course adopted by the laden insects.

The difference in the demeanour of those that are
setting out in search of prey or materials and those that
are returning home is most notable ; the former bustling
along with a quick eager step, looking this way and that,
running first to one side of the path and then to the
other, interchanging rapid communications with their
comrades, and altogether brisk and busy. But when
they have succeeded in their object they march steadily
homeward with a preoccupied demeanour, taking no
notice of passing events, and being apparently absorbed
in the one task of depositing their burden in its proper
place.

The observer will do well while watching these
insects not to sit or stand upon or very near one of their
roads, for the ants have no idea of being pushed out of
the old paths, and are summary and fierce in their re-
venge upon intruders.

As the ants pass and repass on their paths they hold

THE WOOD ANT. 123

rapid communications with each other, mostly by means
of their antennae, which pat and stroke those of their
gossip with surprising quickness, the whole transaction
irresistibly reminding the observer of the Oriental
method of conducting sales or barters by means of the
hands. The antennae, whose precise function is still
rather obscure, are employed not only for actual com-
munication with other ants, but to ascertain whether a
companion has passed over a certain spot. This
peculiar instinct is mostly exercised among trees. The
ant roads seem even to extend themselves to the summit
of trees, being generally confined to one side of the
trunk, and ramifying to the very tips of the leaves, as
may be seen by means of a good field-glass. Ants may
be seen passing and repassing upon the trees as briskly
as upon the ground, and it is notable that when they
get among the small branches an ant will not go where
another has preceded it, making itself aware of the cir-
cumstance by the tapping of the antennae upon the
bark.

The object of this tree-haunting habit is twofold ,
firstly that the individual may obtain food for itself,
and secondly that it may bring in subsistence for the
community. Its own nourishment is chiefly obtained
from the aphides which swarm on many trees, and
which have the power of exuding a saccharine fluid
from a pair of minute tubes near the extremity of the
body. When the aphides are very plentiful the sweet
juice falls on the leaves, and is popularly known as the

124 OUT OF DOORS.

' honey-dew.' Both bees and ants are fond of honey~
dew, which the former insect licks from the leaves with
its brush-like tongue, the latter taking a more direct
course, and lapping it as it exudes from the tubes.
While on the leaves the ants are more than usually
combative, and if the hand be placed near them, will
tuck their tails under them, sit up like dogs begging,
and flourish their antennae in a manner which they
doubtless think well adapted to frighten the disturbers
of their peace. When, however, the angry insect finds
that menace is ineffectual, and that it cannot alarm the
foe, it settles the matter by dropping to the ground. If
an ant~infested tree be suddenly struck with a stick, the
ants tumble down in all directions, falling quite uncon-
cernedly from a height of fourteen or fifteen feet, and
rattling like hail upon the dried leaves at the foot of
the tree. When they reach the ground they lie motion-
less for a moment, and then pick themselves up and
run away as if nothing were the matter.

Though they instinctively spare the aphides (an
instinct which every gardener cannot but wish to be
suppressed), they are terrible foes to other insects,
seizing them and dragging them into their nests most
zealously. I once saw an unfortunate daddy long-legs
(Tipula) caught in a gust of wind and blown upon a
nest of the wood-ant. No sooner had the ill-fated
insect touched the nest than it was surrounded by a
host of ants, its legs seized by twenty pairs; of jaws, its
wings torn from their joints, and the still struggling

THE WOOD ANT. 125

body pushed and dragged along until it was finally
pulled into the recesses of the nest. I have often tried
the experiment of putting a large fly in their path, and
always found their mode of procedure to be the same.
They cluster round the fallen insect like flies round a
lump of sugar, they seize upon its legs, they pull off
its wings in a moment, and run away with the severed
organs, four or five others following each fortunate
captor, just like a brood of chickens after the one that
has been lucky enough to pick up a piece of bread.
They then attack the wingless body with ruthless
violence, biting at it like a hungry cat at a slice of meat,
or perhaps more like a herd of wolves at their prey.
They soon deprive it of life, haul it to the nest, drag
it up the side, and literally tumble it into one of the
holes.

The interior of the wood-ant's nest, and the mode
by which a view of it was obtained by the insertion oi
a sheet of plate-glass, are described in my ' Homes
Without Hands.'

326 OUT OF DOORS.

TEE GREEN CRAB.

OF all the animated denizens of our sea-shores, there is
perhaps none more generally familiar than the common
green crab, or shore-crab as it is also popularly termed —
the Carcinus Manas of naturalists. Whether at high
or low water, at ebb or flow, hiding under overshadow-
ing weeds or craftily sunk beneath the sand, this quaint,
waddling, green-backed crustacean is to be found,
equally active, and equally pugnacious. With the
exception of children, who are always delighted with the
odd manoeuvres of the creature, people mostly look upon
it with contempt, partly because it is too small to hurt
them much, and partly because it is not particularly
worth eating, having hardly anything inside its olive-
green shell, and the little that there is not being well-
flavoured. Yet beneath that unprepossessing exterior
is concealed a vast fund of interest, and the visitor to
the sea-side will find himself well repaid by watching
the habits of our olive-coloured friend.

The best time and place for observing the green
crab in ths fulness of its energies is just before high
tide. Just at the edge of the advancing waters, crabs
rise out of the sand in all directions, like the warriors
sprung from the dragon's teeth, and, as if to complete

THE GREEN CRAB. 127

the analogy, each is supplied with defensive and offensive
armour, and each is at mortal enmity with its com-
panions.

As the waters roll towards the shore the crabs
advance with the waves, ever hovering on the extreme
verge, and hungrily watchful for their prey. The dash-
ing waves tumble them over in a most unceremonious
fashion, but without in the least disturbing their
equanimity, and it is amusing to see how cleverly they
guard themselves from being washed back into the sea
by sticking their hooked legs into the sand, like animated
grapnels.

Before watching the habits of the creature, just let
us catch one, and examine the marvellous manner in
which its form is adapted for the life which it leads.

The legs are so constructed that they permit their
owner to move backwards, forwards, or sideways with
equal ease, a capability which is of the greatest import-
ance in procuring food, as well as in escaping from
foes. The latter contingency is also beautifully provided
for by the shape of the body, which is so formed as to
enable the creature to burrow beneath the sand with
singular rapidity, leaving scarcely a trace of its presence.

To watch the animal thus employed is an interesting
sight. The crab half erects itself on its tail, and scoops
up the sand with the edge, just as a child digs a hole
with its wooden spade. If the sand is wet, three or four
vigorous movements are sufficient to sink the crab below
the surface, when the next wave washes a quantity of

128 OUT OF DOORS.

loose sand over the spot, and nearly obliterates the traces
of the creature that is lurking below. A practised eye
will, however, detect the concealed crab by means of the
bubbles that issue from the sand in consequence of the
air expressed from the system.

Here we may mention that the proper way to catch
a crab without being bitten is to press the forefinger
smartly on the middle of the back, and then to grasp
the two side edges with the thumb and middle finger.
The claws are thus forced to fold their joints, and their
painful bite need not be feared.

Holding the crab in this manner, turn it over, and
examine the wonderful manner in which the limbs are
packed, and how admirably they accommodate them-
selves to the habits of the animal. The claws, when
folded, exactly bring their extremities to the mouth,
so that any food can be carried to the right place, and
literally ' tucked in.' The mouth itself is an apparatus
so complicated that it cannot be described further than
as being a series of jaws and teeth, placed behind each
other in regular succession, and opening like horizontal
shears.

A creature that depends upon its own exertions to
capture the active prey on which it feeds must neces-
sarily be furnished with powerful eyes, which are capable
of extending the faculty of vision over a very large field.
These eyes are seen on the front margin of the crab,
placed on footstalks, and having a peculiar nacreous
lustre on their grey-brown surfaces. On examination

THE GEEEN CRAB. 129

with a good pocket lens, the eyes are seen to be com*
pound, i.e. formed of a great number of facets, each
possessing the power of vision, and all communicating
with their common optic nerve. The delicate raised
lines caused by the serried ranks of these compound
eyes are the origin of the peculiar lustre just mentioned.
It will be seen, too, that the visual portion of these
organs passes partially round the footstalks, so that
when the creature protrudes its eyes it can see objects on
all sides with equal ease.

Now replace the crab in the water, and watch it as
it exhibits the instinct which has. been implanted in its
being by its divine Creator.

Advancing with the flowing tide, and ever remain-
ing within a foot or two of the edge, the crab keeps its
eager watch for food, and suffers few living things to
pass without capturing them. The whole nature of the
animal seems to be changed while it is seeking its prey.
The timid, fearful demeanour which it assumes when
taken at a disadvantage wholly vanishes, and the. appa-
rently ungainly crab becomes full of life and spirit,
active and fierce as the hungry leopard, and no less
destructive among the smaller beings that frequent the
same locality.

Now does it shew the ubiquitous advantages of its
singular mode of progression. Let a tiny fish, a smaller
crustacean or a soft mollusc, pass it within reasonable
distance, and the crab darts at it with a tiger-like
energy, and seldom fails to secure its prey. I have seen

K

130 OUT OF DOORS.

these crabs run after and catch the black flies that are so
common upon the sand, and once saw a burrowing wasp
(Odynerus) snapped up as it alighted on a bit of seaweed ;
and I have often seen bees thus caught as they were
drinking the salt water. Everyone who has walked
along a sandy shore at evening is familiar with the
shrimp-like sand-hoppers or sand-skippers (Talitrus)
that leap about with such untiring energy, and knows
the difficulty of capturing one of these active creatures.
Yet I have seen the green crabs give chase to the sand-
hoppers, and pounce on them as cats on mice.

The method employed in their capture of all active
animals is unique. As soon as the crab sees the intended
prey it sits up for a moment, darts at the doomed being,
and literally flings itself upon the victim, imprisoning
it beneath the body and hemming it in by means of the
legs, which make an impassable cage around it. One
of the claws is then inserted under the body, and the
prisoner picked daintily out as if by the thumb and
ringer. One claw then holds the prey, while the other
pulls it to pieces and puts the morsels deftly into the
mouth. The crab knows the value of time, and loses
not a moment in disposing of its prey, tucking it into
its voracious maw with amusing despatch, and looking
out the while for a fresh victim. Once I saw a very
large sand-hopper make its escape from its pursuer. It
gained nothing, however, but a temporary release, for
the crab instantly gave chase, secured, and ate it in a
few moments.

THE GREEN CRAB. 131

Fierce and destructive as it may be, the green crab
is itself a frequent victim to more powerful foes, and is
often doomed, with poetical justice, to undergo the
sufferings which it has inflicted upon other beings.1
None are more terrible enemies than those of its own
species, for the crab is an insatiate cannibal, devouring
its own kindred without the slightest compunction. In
all these cases, however, it is needful that the dimen-
sions of slain and slayer should be very disproportionate,
as the crab cares not to earn a meal through a fight.

I was lately witness to a very amusing episode, where
a large and powerful crab caught sight of a tender little
one, as it scuttled over the wet sand. Away started the
giant in full chase, and away ran the pigmy, as if know-
ing that life and death hung on the issue of the race.
In spite of the great disproportion in size, the superior
activity of the smaller crab prevented its pursuer from
gaining much ground, but at last its strength evidently
began to fail, and I thought it must inevitably succumb
to the terrible foe that pressed so fiercely on its foot-
steps. Suddenly, however, it darted under a stem of
laminaria that was lying on the shore, gathered all its
limbs under its shell, and there, lay motionless. The
pursuer was instantly baffled. It raised itself in the air,
and surveyed the shore in all directions. Then it
prowled about like a cat that has lost a mouse. It even

1 Mr. Rymer Jones mentions that he saw one crab, while eating an-
other, seized by a larger crab and eaten in his turn. He did not seem to
be sensible of the fact, but went on eating until he was entirely crushed.

K2

132 OUT OF DOORS.

then was cunning enough to turn over some bits of sea-
weed that were lying on the shore, but never thought
of searching under the thick stem of the laminaria.
At last it gave up the pursuit, returned disconsolately
to the sea, shovelled itself under the sand, and I saw
it no more. Its intended victim then cautiously looked
from its place of shelter, just protruded a claw, then
a leg, then looked again, and at last came boldly forth
and went off to catch something on its own account.

As a general rule, the larger the size of the crab the
more bellicose is its disposition. The smaller specimens
are usually discreet as well as valorous, and if surprised
either run away as fast as they can, or burrow into the
sand with all speed. But the great broad-shelled bully
of the rocks has had his own way so long that his first
impulse is always to show fight, and no sooner does he
catch sight of a foe than down goes his tail and up go
his claws, and there he sits, defiantly ready for instant
combat. It is as well to be cautious about handling
such a champion, for he can strike with his claws as
swiftly as a serpent darts its armed head, and should he
miss his aim the clash of the bony weapons is distinctly
audible.

Be it well understood that a bite from such a creature
is no trifle, for the claws are enormously powerful, their
tips are sharply toothed, and they hold like the jaws of
a bull-dog.

Even this belligerent animal is ofttimes fain to re-

THE GREEN CRAB. 133

treat before a foe of greater powers, stronger weapons,
and harder shell — namely, the edible crab, which figures
on our tables, and is known among the seaside popu-
lation as the punger. Fortunately, however, for our
green friend, the punger mostly inhabits a different
belt of water, being most commonly found among the
rocks at low-water mark, whereas the green crab lives
almost wholly above that elevation.

Many persons when walking along the shore have
observed a curious series of little marks on the sand, set
in rows of five or so in depth, and meandering in seem-
ingly purposeless irregularities. At first the marks
appear to be made without any order, but a little
examination will show that the same group of marks
is repeated at regular intervals. These are the foot-
tracks of the green crab, and the distance between the
parallel lines of marks denotes the size of the animal
that made them.

Guided by these tracks, an experienced shore-hunter
can often follow the crab to its place of concealment and
bring it to light, whether it be buried in the sand, or
lying under the shelter of pendent seaweeds. In
attempting this feat, however, it is as well to be quite
sure of the direction in which the crab has gone, so as not
to be led away from, instead of towards, the hidden
crustacean. This object can easily be attained by
examining the shape of the marks, which are always
larger at one end than the other, the larger extremities
always pointing in the direction the crab has taken.

134 OUT OF DOORS.

There is much more to be said of these creatures,
but failing space will not permit of further description.
Should, however, any reader of these lines suffer the
annoyance of a wet day at the sea-side, he is hereby
recommended to procure a waterproof garment, to
betake himself to the shore as the tide is rising, and
amuse himself by watching the crabs.

Since this article was printed, I have found that the
green crab supplies food to rats. Along the cliffs of
Margate great numbers of rats live, having taken up
their abode in the crevices, which are above the reach of
the waves. My attention was first called to them by
seeing their footprints in the thin coating of sand
which is to be found in such places, the sand having
been blown there by the wind.

A friend and myself then set to work at these marks,
and soon found that great numbers of rats inhabit the
cliffs, and that they live almost entirely on the green
crabs, whose broken shells lay plentifully in the crevices.
After watching for some time without success, we at
last managed to see the rats stealing out of their homes
at dusk, and carrying off the crabs. It was very diffi-
cult to see the animals, for they are scarcely visible
against the sand and seaweed, and are so wary that the
least movement sends them scuttling off to their homes.
Sometimes, when the crab happened to be a large one,
the rat had no easy task, for the crab was quite as
courageous and nearly as active as its foe, springing round

THE GREEN CRAB. 135

so as to keep its front to the enemy, and guarding itself
with its claws just as a boxer holds his arms when on
guard.

I may mention that the popular idea of the green
crab being unfit for food is entirely wrong. The flesh
is nearly as good as that of the edible crab, but there is
so little of it that the creature would command no sale
in the market, and is therefore left undisturbed.

136 OUT OF DOORS.

MEDUSA AND HER LOCKS.

ALONG the sandy shores at low water may be seen in
the summer months numbers of round, flattish, gela-
tinous-looking bodies, scientifically called Medusae,,
going popularly by the expressive though scarcely
euphemious titles of slobs, slobbers, stingers, and stan-
gers, and called jelly-fishes by the inland public, though
the creatures are not fishes at all, and have no jelly in
their composition.

As these medusae lie on the beach they present any-
thing but agreeable spectacles to the casual observer,
and, as a general fact, rather excite disgust than
admiration ; and it is not until they are swimming in
the free enjoyment of liberty that they are viewed
with any degree of complacency by an unpractised eye.
Yet even in their present helpless and apparently lifeless
condition, sunken partially in the sand, and without a
movement to show that animation still holds its place
in the tissues, there is something worthy of observation,
and is by no means devoid of interest.

In the first place be it noted that all the medusae
lie in their normal attitudes ; and in spite of their
apparently helpless nature, which causes them to be

MEDUSA AND HER LOCKS. 137

carried about almost at random by the waves or
currents, they in so far bid defiance to the powers of
the sea that they are not tossed about in all sorts of
positions, as is usually the case with creatures that are
thrown upon the beach, but die, like Caesar, decently,
with their mantles wrapped round them.

Looking closer at the medusa, the observer will
find that the substance is by no means homogeneous,
but that it is traversed by numerous veinings, something
like the nervures of a leaf. These marks indicate the
almost inconceivably delicate tissues of which the real
animated portion of the creature is composed, and
which form a network of cells that enclose a vast pro-
portionate amount of sea-water. If, for example, a
medusa weighing some three or four pounds be laid in
the sun, the whole animal seems to evaporate, leaving
in its place nothing but a little gathering of dry fibres,
which hardly weigh as many grains as the original mass
weighed pounds. The enclosed water has been examined
by competent analysts, and has been found to differ in
no perceptible degree from the water of the sea whence
the animal was taken.

Though the cells appear at first sight to be disposed
almost at random, a closer investigation will show that
a regular arrangement prevails among them, and that
they can all be referred to a legitimate organisation.
So invariably is this the case that the shape and order
of these cells afford valuable characteristics in the
classification of these strange beings.

1S8 OUT OF DOORS.

Just below the upper and convex surface may be
seen four elliptical marks, arranged so as to form a
kind of Maltese cross, and differently coloured in the
various specimens, carmine, pink, or white. These
show the attachments of the curious organisation by
which food is taken into the system, and may be better
examined by taking up the creature and looking at its
under surface.

Now take one of the medusae, choosing a specimen
that lies near low-water mark, and place it in a tolerably
large rock pool where the water is clear, and where it
can be watched for some time without the interruption
of the advancing tide.

The apparently inanimate mass straightway becomes
instinc: with life, its disc contracts in places, and suc-
cessive undulations roll round its margin like the wind
waves on a cornfield. By degrees the movements be-
come more and more rhythmical, the creature begins
to pulsate throughout its whole substance, and before
very long it rights itself like a submerged life-boat,
and passes slowly and gracefully through the water,
throwing off a thousand iridescent tints from its surface,
and trailing after it the appendages which form the
Maltese cross above-mentioned, together with a vast
array of delicate fibres that take their origin from the
edge of the disc, or umbrella, as that wonderful organ
is popularly called.

Words cannot express the exceeding beauty and
grace of the medusa, as it slowly pulsates its way

MEDUSA AND HER LOCKS. 139

through the water, rotating, revolving, rising and sink-
ing with slow and easy undulations, and its surface
radiant with rich and changeful hues, like fragments
of submarine rainbows. It is often possible, when
the water is particularly clear, to stand at the ex-
tremity of a pier or jetty and watch the medusae as
they float past in long processions, carried along by
the prevailing currents, but withal maintaining their
position by the exertion of their will.

The reader is doubtlessly aware that the title of
Medusa is given to these creatures on account of the
trailing fibres that surround the disc, just as the snaky
locks of the mythological heroine surrounded her
dreadful visage. Many species deserve the name by
reason of the exceeding venom of their tresses, which
are every whit as terrible to a human being as if they
were the veritable vipers of the ancient allegory.

Fortunately for ourselves, the generality of those
medusae which visit our shores are almost, if not wholly,
harmless ; but there are some species which are to be
avoided as carefully as if each animal were a mass of
angry wasps, and cannot safely be approached within a
considerable distance. The most common of these
venomous beings is the stinger or stanger, and it is
to put sea-bathers on their guard that this article is
written, with a sincere hope that none of its readers
may meet with the ill fate of its author.

If the bather or shore wanderer should happen to
see, either tossing upon the waves or thrown upon the

140 OUT OF DOORS.

beach, a loose, roundish mass of tawny membranes and
fibres, something like a very large handful of lion's
mane and silver paper, let him beware of the object,
and, sacrificing curiosity to discretion, give it as wide
a berth as possible. For this is the fearful stinger,
scientifically called Cyanea capillata, the most plenti-
ful and the most redoubtable of our venomous medusae.

My first introduction to this creature was a very
disastrous one, though I could but reflect afterwards
that it might have been even more so. It took place
as follows.

One morning towards the end of July, while swim-
ming off the Margate coast, I saw at a distance some-
thing that looked like a patch of sand, occasionally
visible, and occasionally covered, as it were, by the waves,
which were then running high in consequence of a
lengthened gale which had not long gone down. Know-
ing the coast pretty well, and thinking that no sand
ought to be in such a locality, I swam towards the
strange object, and had got within some eight or ten
yards of it before finding that it was composed of animal
substance. I naturally thought that it must be the
refuse of some animal that had been thrown overboard,
and swam away from it, not being anxious to come in
contact with so unpleasant a substance.

While still approaching it I had noticed a slight
tingling in the toes of the left foot, but as I invariably
suffer from cramp in those regions while swimming, I
took the ' pins-and-needles ' sensation for a symptom

MEDUSA AND HER LOCKS. 143

of the accustomed cramp, and thought nothing of it.
As I swam on, however, the tingling extended further
and further, and began to feel very much like the sting
of a nettle. Suddenly the truth flashed across me, and
I made for shore as fast as I could.

On turning round for that purpose, I raised my
right arm out of the water, and found that dozens of
slender and transparent threads were hanging from it,
and evidently still attached to the medusa, now some
forty or fifty feet away. The filaments were slight and
delicate as those of a spider's web, but there the simili-
tude ceased, for each was armed with a myriad poisoned
darts that worked their way into the tissues, and affected
the nervous system like the stings of wasps.

Before I reached shore the pain had become fearfully
severe, and on quitting the cool waves it was absolute
torture. Wherever one of the multitudinous threads had
come in contact with the skin there appeared a light
scarlet line, which on closer examination was resolvable
into minute dots or pustules, and the sensation was
much as if each dot were charged with a red-hot needle
gradually making its way through the nerves. The
slightest touch of the clothes was agony, and as I had
to walk more than two miles before reaching my lodg-
ings, the sufferings endured may be better imagined
than described.

Severe, however, as was this pain, it was the least
part of the torture inflicted by these apparently insig-
nificant weapons. Both the respiration and the action of

142 OUT OF DOORS.

the heart became affected, while at short intervals
sharp pangs shot through the chest, as if a bullet had
passed through heart and lungs, causing me to fall as if
struck by a leaden missile. Then the pulsation of the
heart would cease for a time that seemed an age, and
then it would give six or seven leaps, as if it would
force its way through the chest. Then the lungs would
refuse to act, and I stood gasping in vain for breath, as
if the arm of a garotter were round my neck. Then
the sharp pang would shoot through my chest, and so
da capo.

After a journey lasting, so far as my feelings went,
about two years, I got to my lodgings, and instinctively
sought for the salad-oil flask. As always happens
under such circumstances it was empty, and I had to
wait while another could be purchased. A copious
friction with the oil had a sensible effect in alleviating
the suffering, though when I happened to catch a
glance at my own face in the mirror I hardly knew it
—all white, wrinkled, and shrivelled, with cold perspi-
ration standing in large drops over the surface.

How much brandy was administered to me I almost
fear to mention, excepting to say that within half an
hour I drank as much alcohol as would have intoxicated
me over and over again, and yet was no more affected
by it than if it had been so much fair water. Several
days elapsed before I could walk with any degree of
comfort, and for more than three months afterwards

MEDUSA AND HER LOCKS. 143

the shooting pang would occasionally dart through the
chest.

Yet, as before mentioned, the result might have
been more disastrous than was the case. Severe as were
the effects of the poisoned filaments, their range was
extremely limited, extending just above the knee of
one leg, the greater part of the right arm, and a few
lines on the face, where the water had been splashed
by the curling waves. If the injuries had extended to
the chest, or over the epigastrium, where so large a
mass of nervous matter is collected, I doubt whether I
should have been able to reach the shore, or, being
there, whether I should have been able to ascend the
cutting through the cliffs before the flowing tide had
•lashed its waves against the white rocks.

It may be easily imagined that so severe a lesson
was not lost upon me, and that ever afterwards I looked
out very carefully for the tawny mass of fibre and
membrane that once had worked me such woe.

On one occasion, after just such a gale as had
brought the unwelcome visitant to our shores, I was in
a rowing boat with several companions, and came across
two more specimens of Cyanea capillata, quietly
floating along as if they were the most harmless beings
that the ocean ever produced.

My dearly-bought experience was then serviceable
to at least one of my companions, who was going to
pick up the medusa as it drifted past us, and was only

144 OUT OF DOORS.

•deterred by a threat of having his wrist damaged by a
blow of the stroke oar.

Despite, however, all these precautions, I again fell
a victim to the Cyanea in the very next season. After
taking my usual half-mile swim I turned towards shore,
and in due course of time arrived within a reasonable
distance of soundings. As all swimmers are in the
habit of doing on such occasions, I dropped my feet to
feel for sand or rock, and at the same moment touched
something soft, and experienced the well-known tingling
sensation in the toes. Off I set to shore, and this time
escaped with a tolerably sharp nettling about one foot
and ankle, that rendered boots a torture, but had little
further effect. Even this slight attack, however,
brought back the spasmodic affection of the heart ; and
although nearly fourteen months have elapsed since the
last time the medusa shook her venomed locks at me,
the shooting pang now and then reminds me of my en-
tanglement with her direful tresses.

For the comfort of intending sea-bathers, it may be
remarked that although the effects of the Cyanea's
trailing filaments were so terrible in the present
instance, they might be greatly mitigated in those
individuals who are blessed with a stouter epi-
dermis and less sensitive nervous organisation than
have fallen to the lot of the afflicted narrator. How
different, for example, are the effects of a wasp or bee
sting on different individuals, being borne with com-
parative impunity by one, while another is laid up for

MEDUSA AND HER LOCKS. 145

days by a similar injury. And it may perchance happen
that whereas the contact of the Cyanea's trailing fila-
ments may affect one person with almost unendurable
pangs, another may be entangled within their folds
with comparative impunity.

As, however, even the comparative degree is in this
case to be avoided with the utmost care, I repeat the
advice given in the earlier portion of this narrative, and
earnestly counsel the reader to look out carefully for
the stinger, and, above all things, never to swim across
its track, no matter how distant the animal may be,
for the creature can cast forth its envenomed filaments
to an almost interminable length, and even when
separated from the parent body, each filament, or each
fragment thereof, will sting just as fiercely as if still
attached to the creature whence it issued. It will be
seen, therefore, that the safest plan will always be to
keep well in front of any tawny mass that may be seen
floating on the waves, and to allow at least a hundred
yards before venturing to cross its course. Perhaps
this advice may be thought overstrained by the inex-
perienced.

' Those jest at scars -who never felt a wound,

but he who has purchased a painful knowledge at the
cost of many wounds will deem his courage in no wise
diminished if he does his best to keep out of the way
of a foe who cares nothing for assaults, who may be cut
into a thousand pieces without losing one jot of his of-
fensive powers, and who never can be met on equal terms.

146 OUT OF DOORS.

MY TOADS.

1 THE toad,' observes an old and quaint writer, ' is
the most noble kind of frog, most venomous, and re-
markable for courage and strength,' such qualities being
evidently indicative of nobility in the mind of the
narrator. So among the Hindoos the cobra is honoured
as the creature of highest caste next to the Brahmin,
and an old and very vicious Hoonuman is deeply re-
spected as a very high caste monkey ; and so, throughout
all Oriental nations, the surest road to respect is to insult
their chiefs and thrash the people in general, giving no
reason for either proceeding. In the present case, how-
ever, there are but little grounds for the respect that
our author evidently entertained for the toad, as, after
a long and somewhat intimate acquaintance with this
batrachian, I have found his venom impotent, have
never witnessed any display of his courage, and think
his strength to be, bulk for bulk, inferior to that of a
frog. Still the toad is a respectable animal enough,
and to those who will wisely discard the prejudice
attached to its name, a very curious and interesting
animal. Ever since I used to potter up and down our

MY TOADS. 147

garden, a small six-year-old naturalist, with a magnifying
glass always open in one hand, and an empty pill-box
in the other, the toad has been a great favourite with
me, though, perhaps, considering the rude handling to
which it was continually subjected, the feeling was
hardly reciprocated on the part of the reptile.

En passant, let me speak in the highest terms of
the benefit conferred on children by letting them run
about as they will in a rough and ready kind of garden,
where they may work their own sweet wills, dig, plant,
sow, build, and play just as they like, without being
subjected to the annoyance of being confined to the
gravel, and forbidden under severe penalties to place a
foot on the beds. It is an education in itself to them,
this wild freedom. They learn a thousand things that
books will never teach them ; the use of their limbs, the
use of their eyes, readiness of resource, and quick ap-
preciation. They are sure to realise in vivid action every
event of which they hear or read, and thus indelibly fix
their knowledge on their childish memory.

For my own part I know that there was not an
event in Robinson Crusoe, the Swiss Family Kobinson,
Persian Fables, or Arabian Nights, that we did not act
over and over again ; while the histories of England,
Greece, and Eome were delineated with equal force.

Not only were we wrecked on desert islands — not
only did we rescue Men Fridays (darkening our faces
with black-lead, in order to represent the suave savage
in ' character ') — not only did we build ' falcons' nests '

•L 2

148 OUT OF DOORS.

in the apple tree, and make rope-ladders out of clothes-
lines— not only, in fine, did we reduce to practice any
practicable event in our favourite books, and 'make
believe ' fervently in all impracticable cases, but we
pursued the same system with severer studies, and
acted in turn every historical person of whom we read,
though the originals might have found some difficulty
in recognising their representatives, or the localities in
which the particular adventure occurred. For us, how-
ever, the result was perfectly satisfactory. If we pushed
each other out of the stable-loft window, the Tarpeian
rock was sufficiently indicated ; and if the representative
of the criminal happened to hurt himself by the fall it
only made things look more real. And so, whether we
gained our kingdoms by seeing flights of vultures,
killed our brothers for jumping over the wall, got killed
ourselves by an arrow in the eye at an imaginary Hast-
ings, or one through the heart in an equally imaginary
New Forest (the rocking-horse being of great service
in the latter catastrophe), we certainly contrived to
impress on our minds a tolerably vivid idea of the cir-
cumstances.

Children thus learn at the earliest years to dis-
tinguish one plant from another, to know a flower from
a weed, and to learn something of their various pro-
perties; while, with regard to the animal kingdom,
they gain a fund of practical experience that is sure to
be valuable in after life.

It is no small matter for them to get rid of a fear,

MY TOADS. 149

to distinguish between the harmless and hurtful beings,
and, by watching their interesting habits, to feel a sym-
pathy with their fellow creatures, and to appreciate too
keenly the infinite value of life to kill any living thing
without just cause.

We were never afraid of black-beetles, daddy long-
legs, or any of the insect tribe, except the few that wore
stings ; while the frogs and toads were our special pets,
lived in magnificent edifices made of bricks and flower-
pots, and each had its own name. Long before we read
about them in books, we knew all about their absorp-
tion of water through the skin, their sudden cry of fear
when alarmed, the equally sudden change of colour, and
the curious fact that a frog which lived in a dark hole
was always brown, and one that lived in the open air
was yellow ; while as to the venomous nature of the
toads, as energetically detailed by our nursery maids,
we treated the notion with supreme contempt, and
handled a toad as unconcerned as if it had been a ball. I
am sure that many persons — young ladies especially —
who cannot rid themselves of real terrors at the sight of
many a harmless and useful creature, would have been
much happier if their early lives had been spent in a
garden such as has been described.

Having always felt an interest in these ungainly
but truly useful batrachians, I begged from a friend a
fine pair of Natterjack toads that had just been sent
from Jersey, and placed them in a glass fern-case.

Their first proceeding was to establish hiding-places,

150 OUT OF DOORS.

each choosing its own corner for that purpose. The
method in which a toad ensconces itself is rather
curious. Supposing, for example, that it wishes to
burrow into the base of a small mound, it begins by
finding some small part where the earth is tolerably
loose. It then plants the extremity of the back against
the mound, wriggles about in a position that reminds the
observer of the green crab shovelling itself under the
sand, and pushes the earth from beneath it with the
hind feet, passing it forwards under the body, where it
is taken up by the fore-feet and put out of the way.
Inadequate as the means may seem — the soft, skinny
feet of the toad being apparently the worst spades that
could well be devised — the creature will sink itself
below the ground in a wonderfully short space of time.
It is remarkable that a toad never enters its hole
except by backing into it — at least, I have never seen
one do so, whether it be at liberty or in confinement.

Having fairly established themselves, they looked
out for food, although, with all of their kin, they were
capable of sustaining a very prolonged fast without any
apparent inconvenience. As at that time I was living
in the very heart of London, it was not easy to procure
the proper kind of food for the toads, who feed wholly
upon living creatures, and will touch nothing that does
not move. However, I contrived to bring home a
miscellaneous collection in several boxes, and tried ex-
periments with them.

They would eat earthworms, provided that they

MY TOADS. 151

were clean and lively, so as to writhe about in that
manner which a toad cannot resist. They were cap-
tured after the usual custom — namely, by a sudden
* flick ' of the curious tongue, which is so rapidly
moved that with the most careful attention the eye
can only distinguish a pink streak appear and as sud-
denly vanish. A slight slapping sound is heard as the
tongue is thrown towards the prey.

The fact has long been known, but the details have,
I believe, not yet been fully described. It is by no
means necessary, as has been repeatedly asserted, for the
toad to remain motionless, with its eyes intently fixed
on its victim. On the contrary, I have often seen the
toad catch beetles in spots where it could not see them,
and without even attempting to look for them. The
tongue can be flung in any direction, and always with
equal certainty of aim, at right angles to the head for
example, out of either corner of the mouth, or even
under the body. I have repeatedly seen the creature
aim at an insect that was crawling under its body, and
mostly with success ; if not so, a second shot was sure
to be effectual.

I used frequently to feed them with blue-bottle flies,
by the simple process of putting them into the fern-
case and closing the entrance. In spite of the wings
and activity of the insect, the toad was sure to have it
before long. At the first buzz the toad would come
all in a hurry out of his hole, tumbling over stones and
sticks in his eagerness, and evidently listening for the

152 OUT OF DOORS.

sound of the fly's wings. As soon as the insect settled
within reach of the tongue (and when the reptile stood
on its hind legs -it had a marvellous reach) the toad
used to raise its head with an oddly knowing air, and
looked as eager as a cat which hears a mouse behind
the door. It would then scramble hastily towards the
fly, when a red streak would be seen to flash from its
mouth, a slight slap was heard, and the fly had van-
ished. If the insect took alarm, the toad was quite
content to wait, and was certain to hunt it down at
last.

It may be here mentioned that the root of the
toad's tongue is set on the front of the lower jaw, the
point being directed backward, so that when an insect
is captured the mere return of the tongue flings it
down the throat. A few decided gulps are, however,
needful to complete the operation, and the aspect of
the toad while engaged in swallowing is most absurd,
the elevated eyes being closed, and disappearing en-
tirely by the exertion. The dimensions of the insect
make no difference in the magnitude of the gulp and
the disappearance of the eyes.

Few persons who have not watched a toad can form
any idea of the dexterous manner in which it uses its
fore-paws, these apparently clumsy members serving
the purpose of hands, and being frequently employed
in lieu of those important limbs. If, for example, the
toad has snapped up a tolerably long worm, it will
probably be incommoded by the natural objection

J/F TOADS. 153

entertained by the annelid with respect to its lodge-
ment in its captor's stomach, and the struggle which it
makes to escape, its head and tail usually protruding
at opposite sides of the mouth.

Now the toad is strangely indifferent to wounds
and injuries, and even if nearly severed in two seems to
be as unconcerned as if it had no personal interest in the
calamity. But nothing appears to annoy the strange
creature so much as any object sticking in the sides of
the mouth, and it displays a vast amount of uneasiness
until it has removed the annoyance. In order to effect
this object the fore-paws are brought into play, the
creature grasping at the irritating object just as a
monkey would do under the circumstances, and either
pushing it down the throat or throwing it away, accord-
ing to its fitness or unfitness for food. I have known
the leg of a beetle, or even the wing of a fly, worry the
toad sadly, while a small blade of grass excited it to
such a degree that it very nearly looked angry.

There is one curious point connected with the toad
which I have never been able to comprehend. Sup-
posing it to be pursuing a fly, and the insect to have
settled out of reach, the toad sits watching it just as a
lion is said to watch a baboon or a human being who
takes refuge in a tree. While thus watching, the last
joint of the middle toe of the hind feet is continually
jerked with a convulsive kind of movement, twitching
in unison at regular intervals. The movement seems
to be quite involuntary, and I suppose is analogous to

154 OUT OF DOORS,

the waving of the lion's tail while the animal is crouch-
ing in view of its intended prey.

Although the toad can endure a very long fast,
there seems to be no limit to its gormandising capaci-
ties when it meets with a plentiful supply of food.
The smaller of my specimens ate successively several
worms, a great ' woolly bear ' caterpillar (i.e., the larva
of the tiger moth, Arctia ccy'a), a large grub, apparently
the larval state of some beetle, a number of smaller
insects, and a large ground beetle (Carabus violaceus).
These various capabilities render it a most useful
animal, and one which should be carefully guarded by
every owner of a garden. For at night, when the
obnoxious slugs, flies, beetles, and other insects are on
the move, the toad comes out to prey on them, and
quietly performs very great service by the steady,
thorough-going manner in which it clears the plants of
every creature that moves.

Some entomologists, whose zeal for the enrichment
of their cabinets exceeds their humanity, are in the
habit of sallying out into the fields at early dawn,
killing all the toads that they can find, and opening
them for the purpose of getting the insects that have
been swallowed during the night. Some of the rarest
British specimens have been taken in this manner,
beetles being the usual denizens of the locality. Con-
chologists are accustomed to employ a similar mode of
collecting the objects of their research, and find some
of the best specimens in the stomachs of several deep
sea fishes ; and microscopists in like manner find a vast

MY TOADS. 155

museum of beautiful objects within the digestive organs
of various molluscs.

The beautiful eye of the toad is proverbial, redeem-
ing the ungainliness of its general aspect, and having
in all probability given rise to the fabled jewel within
the head. Bright and richly coloured as is the eye,
with its glowing, bold, fiery chestnut hue, it is without
the least vestige of expression, and retains its full
brilliancy long after the animal is dead. As to the
venomous powers of the toad, they are not to be found
in the mouth, as is popularly imagined, but in two
rather large glands on the sides of the head, which pro-
ject boldly, and are plainly visible. If one of these
protuberances be squeezed between the fingers, a
whitish, creamy-looking liquid will be ejected, and
perhaps to some little distance. While performing this
operation it will be as well to hold the toad in such a
manner that the secretion may not be shot into the
eyes, as in that case it would probably cause severe pain,
and might probably produce violent inflammation.
Still it will not be ejected without the employment of
considerable force, and is never injurious to human
beings.

Briefly to sum up the character of the toad : it is
not pretty, is entirely harmless, extremely useful, easily
tamed, and worthy of being cherished by those who
prefer deeds to outward seeming ; it is a creature of
curious and interesting habits, and affords a rich field
to anyone with time and opportunity for clearing up
several important but disputed points in physiology.

156 OUT OF DOORS.

THE CHILDREN OF THE NEW FOREST.

IT was a delicious summer evening, the fresh breeze
pouring new life into lungs choked with thick London
smoke, and the setting sun darting its last red rays
through the waving corn, when we issued from the
station door, wearied and cramped with long sitting in
a crowded carriage, and were heartily greeted by oui
host, whose domains we were about to invade. A few
minutes served to settle us on the vehicle in waiting,
and the train had hardly proceeded on its course when
we were merrily bowling along towards our home in the
New Forest.

Even the country drive was a luxury to those who
had for months been penned up in the very heart of the
metropolis, and, after a mile or so had been passed,
proved to be not without its excitement. The favourite
old horse — hight Rufus, in honour of the second William,
and in allusion to his bay coat — trotted off in great
spirits, knowing that every step took him nearer to his
stable. His owner, however, not wishing us to be taken
by surprise, mentioned casually that Eufus generally
fell down when descending a hill, and that he always

THE CHILDREN OF THE NEW FOREST. 157

liked to have the vehicle pushed behind him whenever
he came to an ascent ; but that those who were used to
him knew what to expect, and did not object to these
trifling eccentricities. As, therefore, the road consisted,
on an average, of six miles of hills and two of level
ground, it may be imagined that mental excitement
was combined with physical exertion in a degree rarely
witnessed. However, we had started with the intention
of taking everything as it came, and therefore held up
Kufus carefully as he went down hill, and pushed behind
when he went up hill, until we arrived at our intended
domicile ; the vehicle having been very useful in holding
our baggage, but as far as ourselves were concerned,
rather an honourable appendage than a personal convey-
ance.

Evening had set in long before, and the glowworms
had started one by one into their full beauty, as they
lined the forest pathways like mundane stars shining in
imitative rivalry of the glittering points in the dark
dome above. One of them we placed on the splash-
board by way of a lantern, and on our safe arrival laid
it carefully among some herbage just outside the door,
a position which it held for three days and nights.

Such a lovely spot is the New Forest ; the soil so
various, the trees so magnificent, the flowers so perfumed
and luxuriant, and the birds so plentiful and musical.
May the Enclosure Act, that has turned many a mile of
grand forest into base turnip land, never lay its wither-
ing grasp on the New Forest ! and far be from our eyes

158 OUT OF DOORS.

the chilling sight of the splendid oaks, which we have
so long loved, lying like murdered corpses on the ground,
their white and gnarled limbs stretched out as if stiffened
in deadly agony, and their rugged bark, erst rich with
moss and lichen, stacked in heaps by their sides.

Some unimaginative persons talk of the dull uni-
formity of the forest — you might as well talk of the
dull uniformity of the Strand or Eegent Street, and
with much more reason of the dull uniformity of Rotten
Row. The real deep, primitive forest is ever changing,
and in one day may pass through a thousand phases.
Putting aside the two great epochs of summer and
winter, of leafless branch and wealthy foliage, of green-
clad boughs and snowy shroud, together with the inter-
mediate state of spring's delicate green and autumn's
ruddy brown, there is hardly a day when the forest does
not assume a new aspect as each hour passes away, and
in which its threefold harmonies of sight, sound, and
scent are not woven into a thousand varied modulations,
like a fugued melody of some great master in music.
Mendelssohn always reminds me of a forest. No one
can appreciate a forest who has not passed whole days
in its solitary depths, and watched it from the early
morning hours to the deep, dark shades of night.
Different birds, insects, and flowers make their appear-
ance at their chosen hour, and there are many creatures
which emerge from their hiding-places only for a brit-f
space, and then return into darkness and solitude for
the remainder of the day. The sweet voices of the

THE CHILDREN OF THE NEW FOREST. 159

song-birds have their appointed times, and the perfume
of flower and leaf changes with the march of the sun.

Full of pleasant memories, and gay with anticipa-
tions of the morrow, we two old foresters flung open
our window to the utmost, so as to be lulled to sleep by
the owl and the silence, and to be awakened by the
merry songs of the morning birds. We awoke at the
intended hour, but heard no birds, nothing but a rush-
ing sound as of rain on leaves. Horror ! the sky is of
one uniform leaden tinge, and the rain is pouring in
steady perpendicular torrents, as if a second deluge
were impending. What shall we do for the next few
hours, while the household is asleep within and the rain
pouring without? Let us brave the storm, accept a
thorough soaking as an inevitable fact, and sally boldly
into the forest just to see its aspect after a wet night
and during a heavy rain.

A few minutes served to encase ourselves in the
very oldest habiliments that our wardrobe could furnish,
and to see us on our way. Twenty yards sufficed to
drench our clothing as effectually as if we had just
emerged from the depths of a river, and from that
moment we became delightfully indifferent to the rain ;
having a kind of wild exultation in the feeling that we
could walk about in the midst of the watery torrent
without seeking shelter or needing an umbrella. I have
seldom enjoyed a walk more than that saunter in the
forest glades, with the noisy patter of the rain-drops on
the leaves overhead, the pleasant smell of the crushed

160 OUT OF DOORS.

fern, the primitive independence of being thoroughly
wet and caring nothing for it, and the plish -plash of
our feet as every step pumped water out of our boots.
Back to the house through the rude path, now some
six inches deep in red mud, a brief toilet, and a very
welcome breakfast.

Still rain, rain, more rain, and what shall we do ?
Cat's cradle afforded a little amusement, uniting the
advantages of adventurous combination, unexpected
results, and the least possible bodily exertion. Even
this recreation, however, is scarcely exciting enough to
be continued for any lengthened period, and after a
desperate but abortive attempt to play at fives in an
empty garret, we extemporised a game at bowls on the
floor, the 'jack ' being represented by a bradawl stuck
in the boards, and the bowls by two india-rubber balls,
one solid and small, and the other hollow and large.

The beauty of the game was enhanced by the
sloping nature of the floor causing the balls to roll
away until they were either checked by the wall or fell
down the staircase. This difficulty, however, was over-
come by the inventive genius of one player whom
modesty forbids me to particularise, and a few handfuls
of oats scattered over the floor served at once to arrest
the ball and to test the player's skill in guiding his
bowl neatly into the little hollows left here and there
by the grain. This absorbing pursuit carried us over
three or four hours, when its course was suddenly ar-
rested by a summons to dinner, the greater part of that

THE CHILDREN OF THE NEW FOREST. 161

refection having been cooked in the solitary sitting-
room of the establishment.

Rain still heavy, if anything heavier than before,
and what shall we do ? Let us throw knives at a mark
like Ho Fi, the Chinese juggler, whose portrait we had
lately seen, represented as in the act of aiming a broad-
bladed knife at a fellow-countryman standing spread-
eagle-wise against a board, and whose outstretched
limbs and rigid head were encircled with similar wea-
pons. No sooner said than done. A target was rapidly
improvised, a stout board fetched from the shed, a
couple of ' rymers ' sharpened, and in a few minutes all
hands were deep in this most absorbing pursuit, which,
when afterwards imported into the metropolis, proved
of so fascinating a character that I have known the
whole male population of a drawing-room desert their
fair companions, and give themselves up an unresisting
prey to ' pegging.' Nothing is simpler than this game.
You take a sharp-pointed knife, chisel, or other imple-
ment, lay it flat along the hand, the point directed up
the arm, and the handle just projecting from the finger-
tips. You take a good aim at the target, fling the
knife so as to cause it to make one half-turn as it passes
through the air, and if you have performed all these
actions correctly, the knife darts into the target with
a heavy thud, and there sticks, quivering with the
violence of the blow. It is, in fact, a refinement
on ' Aunt Sally ; ' quite as exciting and not half so
fatiguing.

M

162 OUT OF DOORS.

Night again drops her dank, wet veil over the scene,
and our visit to the New Forest bids fair to be a total
failure.

Brightly shone the sunbeams on the following day ;
the dismal splash of rain had ceased ; the black, cloudy
sky had changed to deep blue ; the breeze was charged
with perfume, and the air filled with melody. A host
of chaffinches were congregated in front of the window,
pecking about amongst the grass, and twittering merrily
with their sweet little chatter. All nature seemed to
rejoice in the sunshine, and the deep glades of the
forest, broken by sundry gleams of golden light, invited
us to its presence.

The ground was still wet under our feet, the heavy
ferns dropped showers of moisture as we brushed against
their wide fronds ; and, as the wind stirred the branches
above, occasional shower baths came pattering on our
heads. But how changed was everything around. The
birds flitted from bush to bush, heedless of the rain-
drops scattered by their rapid movements ; the air was
filled with glittering insects, and the busy hum of many
wings gave light and brightness to the scene. The
long avenues of oak and beech produced effects of
brilliant many-coloured light and deepest shade that no
painter could hope to imitate ; the heavy masses of
holly that studded the forest gave a mysterious darkness
to many an inlet, while the wide clusters of foxgloves
reared their tall heads in the patches of sunshine, and
waved their lovely petals in the breeze. Foxgloves,

THE CHILDREN OF THE NEW FOREST. 163

indeed, seem to be the leading characteristic of that
part of the forest, for it was impossible to look down
any avenue without seeing a cluster of these magnificent
flowers shining out against the dark masses of shadowy
verdure, and giving wondrous effects of colour just
where an artist would most want them

It was most beautiful, too, to watch the golden-
winged insects come darting against the sunbeams,
issuing like visions from the shrouded darkness,
glittering for a moment like living gems as they shot
through the narrow belt of light, and vanishing into
the mysterious gloom beyond, as if suddenly annihilated
by the wave of a magician's wand. More pleasant
to the sight than to the touch, particularly for persons
endowed with a delicate skin. I never thoroughly
appreciated the exceeding torture that the plague of
flies must have inflicted upon the Egyptians until I had
passed a few hot summer days in the New Forest.

Flies of all sorts, sizes, and colours surround the
hapless victim, and render existence a burden and a
torment. Great buzzing, wide-winged, large-eyed flies
charge at him with a trumpet of defiance, and in spite
of clothes find some weak point through which they
may insert their poisoned dart. Tiny flies, too small
for audible murmur of wings, and too gentle of move-
ment to be noticed, run nimbly about his person, creep
up his sleeves, slip down his neck, get into his eyes and
nostrils, and leave memorials of their presence in a
series of little angry red pustules like those of nettle-

if 2

164 OUT OF DOORS.

rash, and quite as annoying. Others, again, will set to
work in a calmly composed and business-like style,
alight on his hand or wrist, produce a case of lancets
from their mouths, and bleed him with the practised
skill of an old surgeon.

Besides all these foes, the forest is haunted by
myriads of horrid ticks — flat-bodied active little crea-
tures, with legs that cling like burrs, and heads barbed
like the point of a harpoon. These insidious animals
swarm upon the passenger, and are sure to discover
some method by which they may creep through the
clothes and operate on their victim. Imperceptibly
the barbed head is thrust under the skin, and the crea-
ture begins to suck the blood of its human prey with
such voracity that before many minutes have passed, its
flat and almost invisible body swells into a blood-dis-
tended bag, and the tick looks more like a ripe black
currant than an insect. If it should be discovered
it must in no wise be torn away by violence, or its
barbed head would remain in the wound and be the cause
of painful inflammation.

There are two modes of ridding oneself of ticks.
One method is by lighting a large fire, taking off all
clothing, and rotating before the blaze as if attempting
suicide by roasting. The ticks cannot endure the heat,
and soon fall off, but as this process is hardly feasible
in an English forest, it is better to have recourse to
the second method, which is simply to brush them with
a feather dipped in oil.

THE CHILDREN OF THE NEW FOREST. 165

As for myself, in spite of wearing large gauntleted
leather gloves, and tying the wrists and ankles with
string, the insects led me such a life that I hardly dared
enter the forest. At last a bright idea struck me, I
rubbed my hands, ankles, face, and neck with naphtha,
and kept a little bottle in my pocket for renewal when-
ever the odour seemed to become faint and ineffectual.
After taking this precaution I enjoyed a delightful
immunity from insects, which more than compensated
for the very unpleasant smell of the naphtha. Even in
the course of a long day's sojourn in the forest depths
not a fly dared meddle with so potent an odour, and it
was amusing to see a great loud-winged insect come
charging along, ready for action and thirsting for blood,
and then to see it pause in full career, balance itself for
a moment on quivering wings, and dart off at an angle
from the hateful scent.

Upon many a tree were the nests or ' cages ' of the
squirrel, denoting the abundance of these pretty little
animals in the neighbourhood. Before very long a
reddish dot was seen moving among the grass, and we
immediately determined to stalk up to the creature
and to watch its habits. Being accustomed to wood-
craft, and knowing how to take advantage of every
cover, to pass among branches without noise, and to
avoid snapping dried sticks with the feet, we crept to a
tree-trunk within six yards of the squirrel, and there
gat quietly looking at him.

There he was, blithe and joyous, totally ignorant of

166 OUT OF DOORS.

our presence, but still watchful, raising himself occa-
sionally so as to look over the tops of the grass-blades,
but never seeing us on account of our rigid stillness.
It was most interesting to watch the pretty little
animal as he went skipping over the ground in little hop-
ping steps, now stooping to feed, now picking up some-
thing in his paws, holding it to his mouth in a dainty
and well-bred fashion, tasting it, and then throwing it
down in disdain. Then he would disappear entirely
below the grass, and next moment he would be sitting
upright, his bushy tail curled over his head, and his
bright eyes gleaming as he looked around.

Suddenly a lad came running towards us, making
much more noise in crashing through the fern than a
dozen full-grown elephants would have produced. Up
jumped the squirrel, glanced hastily towards the spot
whence the unwelcome sounds proceeded, and dashed
off for the nearest tree, looking wonderfully like a
miniature fox as he scudded over the ground, his body
stretched to its full length, and his bushy tail trailing
behind him. A long leap, and he had jumped on the
trunk of the tree towards which he was running, and,
according to the usual fashion of squirrels, skipped
round it, so as to interpose the trunk between himself
and the supposed foe. But this manoeuvre exactly
brought him face to face with us, and at the distance
of only a yard or two, and I never saw a squirrel look
more bewildered than he appeared on making this
terrible discovery. He never stopped for a moment,

THE CHILDREN OF THE NEW FOREST. 167

however, but fairly galloped up the tree, ran along a
projecting branch, made a great leap into another tree,
traversed that also, and in two minutes was fairly out
of sight.

Here let me offer an indignant protest against two
subterfuges under which the destroying nature of man
hides its ugliness.

There are some persons in whom the destructive
element is acknowledgedly developed in all its fulness,
who live but to hunt, and to shoot, and to fish, and
who really seem to have gradually drilled themselves
into a heartfelt belief that to destroy the furred,
feathered, and scaled inhabitants of the earth is the
noblest aim of man, and one to which every other
object must necessarily become subservient. As a
natural corollary of this proposition, follows the extir-
pation of every living creature that can interfere,
either actively or passively, with their sport, the result
being to depopulate the country of every being in
which is the breath of life.

All the beautiful, and truly beautiful, weasel tribe
are to be killed because they will eat hares, rabbits,
and feathered game ; all the hawk tribe fall under the
ban ; the ravens, crows, and magpies are to be killed
because they are apt to rob the nests of partridges and
pheasants ; the little birds because they eat the corn
on which the pheasants might feed ; and even the
squirrel is now reckoned amongst the vermin because
it is known to regale itself occasionally on young birds,

168 OUT OF DOORS.

and possibly on their eggs. The keeper who destroys
the greatest number of these ' vermin ' earns the
highest praise from his master; and, to all appear-
ances, the very perfection of a forest in the eyes of a
sportsman would be this — it should not harbour a
single creature except those which are dignified by the
title of game, and thought worthy of death from the
hand of their owner.

It is a pitiful sight in this grand forest to view the
handiwork of the keepers in the shape of noble hawks,
ravens, martens, squirrels, and other wild denizens of
the woods, nailed on the trunks of trees, or hung in
withered clusters from their boughs. I do not believe
that a true sportsman would find his amusement cur-
tailed by their life, feeling sure that nature can gene-
rally keep her own balance, as is exemplified in coun-
tries where the Game Laws were never heard of, where
game preservation has never been dreamed of, and
where the game abounds in spite of the swarming ver-
min far more numerous and powerful than those of our
own country.

Another and more noxious kind of destroyer is
found in those pseudo-zoologists who hypocritically
conceal their love of slaughter under the guise of
science, and, necrologists as they are, never can watch
an animal without wanting to kill it. The daily
papers afford abundant instances of such mock science,
and it is well known that even a parrot cannot escape
from its domicile without running the most imminent

THE CHILDREN OF THE NEW FOREST. 169

risk of being shot. Not a rare bird has a chance of
escape if it once shows itself within the limit of the
British Isles ; and I can but think with exultation of
those deluded individuals who lately spent much powder
and shot, and more patience, upon some rare sea-bird
which had settled in a lake, and which afterwards proved
to be nothing but a stuffed skin ingeniously anchored by
a long line. Such persons never think of watching the
living being in order to learn the wonderful instincts
with which its Maker has gifted it, and the interesting
habits and customs belonging to the individual or the
species. Should they come across a rare bird, their
first regret is that they have no gun with them ; and
instead of feeling delighted at the opportunity of gain-
ing further knowledge, they only lament that they
cannot take away from the bright being that life which
it is so evidently created to enjoy, and the causeless
deprivation of which is literally a robbery of its birth-
right.

One of the principal objects of our expedition was
to ascertain the mode in which the snipe produces the
remarkable sound called ' drumming,' from its fancied
resemblance to the distant roll of the military drum.
To my ears, however, the mingled whizz and hum of a
slackened harp-string give the best idea of this re-
markable sound.

It must be premised that during the breeding
season the male snipe, like many other creatures,
assumes new habits, and utters new sounds. Generally

170 OUT OF DOORS.

the flight of this bird is short and fitful, as is well
known to all sportsmen, and seldom lasts more than a
few minutes. But during the breeding season the
snipe becomes an altered being. Towards evening it
leaves its marshy couch, and rises to a great height in
the air, where it continues to wheel in circuitous flight
for a considerable period, mostly confining itself within
the limits of a large circle, and uttering almost con-
tinually a loud, sharp, unmusical, and monosyllabic
cry, which may be roughly imitated by the words
c chic ! chic ! chick-a chick-a, chic ! chic ! ' &c. At
varying intervals it sweeps downwards, making a stoop
not unlike that of a hawk, and producing the sound
called drumming during the stoop.

How the bird drums has long been a matter of
doubt, some naturalists attributing it to the organs of
voice, others to the wings, and others to the tail. To
set this question at rest was therefore an interesting
pursuit, and to that purpose several successive evenings
were devoted.

As soon as the snipes began to drum we set out for
the marshy ground over which they flew, and by dint
of cautious management succeeded in ensconcing our-
selves in a dense thicket of thorn and blackberry where
we were perfectly concealed, but whence we had a
thorough command of the sky. Not choosing to trust
to my single observation, I had two friends with me ;
one of them a well-known bush huntsman of Africa,

THE CHILDREN OF THE NEW FOREST. 171

and the other an old and observant inhabitant of the
forest. We were all supplied with powerful glasses.

Before we had lain very long in ambush the desired
sound struck our ears, proceeding from a snipe that
was circling high above us. We watched the bird for
a long time, but he never came near enough to give a
good view. Several others afforded us much disap-
pointment, but at last all our trouble was fully repaid.
A fine snipe arose at no great distance, and just as if he
had known our object, and intended to give us his best
aid, began to cry and drum just over our heads, and at
so small a height that as he wheeled in airy circles his
long beak and bright eye were clearly seen even by the
unaided vision, while the double field-glasses with
which we were supplied gave us as excellent a view of
the bird as if it were within two yards.

It was, then, quite clear that the drumming sound
was not produced by the voice, as the bird repeatedly
uttered the sound of * chic ! chic ! chick-a ! ' simulta-
neously with the drumming. Without offering any
opinion we repeatedly watched the bird, and then com-
pared our observations. They were unanimous, and to
the effect that the sound was produced by the quill
feathers of the wings. The bird never drummed ex-
cept when on the stoop, and whenever it performed
this manoeuvre the quill feathers of the wings were
always expanded to their utmost width, so that the
light could be seen between them, and quivered with a
rapid tremulous motion that quite blurred their out-

172 OUT OF DOOJKA.

lines. Our observations were repeated during several
successive evenings, and always with the same result.

There is perhaps no locality in the whole of this
country so well adapted to the natural historian as the
New Forest, the conditions of soil, elevation, and
foliage being so prodigally varied that almost any
creature can find a refuge in some portion of its limits.
Take, for example, the spot on which we resided, but
which I do not intend to particularise, lest its sacred
recesses should be profaned by the step of outer bar-
barians, and its wild glades polluted by empty porter
bottles, broken crockery, and greasy sandwich papers.

The cultivated ground in front of the house reached
a narrow and rapid brook. Beyond the brook was a
large expanse of marsh and shaking bog, harbouring
multitudes of snipes. In the middle of this swamp
our drumming observations were made. The ground
suddenly rose beyond this bog into a wide but not very
high hill, covered densely with heather, and giving
shelter to grouse and pheasants. About four miles
further the heath was abruptly ended by a large fir-
wood, in which the deer loved to couch. We once
devoted a whole morning to tracking a deer by its
footsteps or ' spoor,' and after some three hours' careful
chase found the creature lying couched among the
fern. Ravens were often seen heavily napping their
way over the heather, and on one or two occasions our
eyes were gratified with the grand sweeping flight of
the buzzard, as it soared on steady wing, inclining from

THE CHILDREN OF THE NEW FOREST. 173

side to side like an accomplished skater on the outside
edge, but appearing to make its way through the air as
if by simple volition. Bright-plumaged woodpeckers
fled screaming through the forest depths, and many a
tree-trunk bore witness of their persevering labours.

The human population of the forest have, in course
of time, become deeply saturated with the wild uncul-
tivated air of the region in which they reside, and many
an aged man has never seen a town in his life, or
ventured beyond the limits of the familiar forest lands.
A practised eye can mostly detect a forester at a glance,
a strange family likeness being observable in all who
have passed their existence in this place — probably
owing to the continual intermarriages which necessarily
occur among them. Even the tone of voice is of a
peculiar nature, and the drawling, high-pitched chant
of the thorough-bred forester is not likely to be forgotten
if once heard. In fact, the forest is to its aborigines
what the desert is to its nomad Arabs ; and the wild
Bedouin can hardly feel more terror at the idea of
entering the habitations of civilised man than does
the forester at the notion of exchanging the trees for
houses.

I remember that on one occasion, after the hay had
been got in, a cartload was destined for some stables at
Southampton. The fragrant trusses were placed on
the waggon, the horses harnessed, and all was ready for
the journey, when an unexpected difficulty arose in the
person of the carter, a fine young fellow of six-and-

174 OUT OF DOORS.

twenty, one of the first in the field and all the rustic
sports. After a vast amount of prevarication he flatly
refused to leave the forest, and when peremptorily
ordered to do so he sat down on the road-side, and
sobbed like a child with sheer terror of the unknown
regions beyond his ken. An exact parallel to his de-
spairing fears maybe often seen in the crowded thorough-
fares of London, where a child has lost its way, and
stands weeping in the depths of its misery, beset on
all sides by vague fears, and as hopelessly bewildered
as if it had been suddenly transplanted to a new planet.
Take such a man out of the forest, run him off by
express train to London, put him down at London
Bridge or Charing Cross, and he would become a maniac
from the rush of ideas to the brain, like that Kaffir
chief whose head was turned by the sights on board of
a steamer, and who deliberately hauled himself to the
bottom of the sea by means of the chain cable.

There is also a strange race of beings called the
woodmen, who possess certain prescriptive rights from
time immemorial. They are the most independent set
imaginable, and laugh at law or justice. Their carts
are at least two feet wider than is allowed by legal
authority, and while driving along the road they are
totally regardless of the right and wrong side. Those
who meet them may turn aside if they like, but they
proceed on their course without paying the least respect
to the tacit regulations of the road. One Saturday,
while driving on the high road, we met a long string

THE CHILDREN OF THE NEW FOREST. 175

of woodcarts all on the wrong side, all straggling in
such a manner that we were fain to draw our vehicle
into the ditch, and on every cart were one or two wood-
men lying in a state of senseless intoxication, and
leaving their horses to find their own way home — a task
which they certainly performed with an accuracy that
warranted the confidence reposed in them.

Many of these men would not be sober until the
Tuesday, they would sleep off their headaches on Wed-
nesday, on Thursday and Friday they would earn a
week's wages, and on Saturday they would set off to
the public-house and renew the last week's scenes. This
kind of life suits their lawless natures, and they would
rather lead this wild and reckless existence than be-
come honoured and useful members of society, as they
might easily do, considering the wages which they can
earn. Perhaps their wives and children might hold a
different opinion, especially from Saturday evening to
Wednesday morning.

Vipers are delightfully plentiful in the New Forest,
and during our limited sojourn I saw three distinct
varieties, the common, the light grey, and the yellow,
the last-mentioned being the largest living viper I
ever saw. Apropos of vipers, it so happened that some
farmers were paying a passing call when a labourer
brought me a moderate- sized viper suspended to a string,
and hung it on a post. Acting on the impulse of the
moment I flung my knife at the reptile, and by a
wondrously fortunate shot drove the blade fairly through

176 OUT OF DOORS.

the spine, just behind the head. My friend followed
suit, and transfixed the snake about the middle of its
body. The farmers were quite aghast at our skill, and
it may be imagined we did not disabuse them of their
good opinion by attempting a repetition of the feat.

After a number of experiments on the living viper
I found that the reptiles could never be induced to bite
at a stick, however great the provocation might be, but
that as soon as any living creature came within reach
they were sure to strike. The foresters were actuated
by a wholesome dread of the viper, but feared the
harmless blind worm far more than the really venomous
reptile. One of the labourers brought to me the upper
half of a blind worm squeezed tightly in his cap (the
creature having thrown off its tail according to custom),
and was almost pale with horror when I took it from
the cap with bare hands. Mr. Waterton's feat of
carrying twenty-seven living rattlesnakes from one
room to another afforded a sufficiently terrifying spec-
tacle, but in the eye of a genuine forester could not
compare with the prowess displayed in seizing a blind
worm with the bare hands.

Perhaps the night walks in the forest afforded the
most pleasant reminiscences of our visit. At nightfall
we used to put a compass and some matches in our
pockets, and start for the depths of the forest, taking
care to step very gently so as to give no audible alarm,
and to keep ourselves well in the shade so as to avoid
detection by sight. It was most delightful to wander

THE CHILDREN OF THE NEW FOREST. 177

thus into the heart of the primeval forest, among the
great oaks and beeches, to seat ourselves face to face
on the soft moss at the foot of some tree, and listen to
the weird-like sounds alternating with the solemn still-
ness of the woods. At times the silence became
almost audible, so profound was the hushed calm of
night ; while at intervals the sharp yapping bark of a
fox might be heard in the distance, the drowsy hum of
the watchman beetle came vaguely through the air,
and the locust-like cry of the goat- sucker resounded
from the trees. These curious birds were very common
and quite familiar, allowing us to approach within
twenty yards of the branch on which they crouched, or
sometimes sweeping with their noiseless flight to the
ground in front of us, and then pecking merrily away
at the various insects which traversed the grass. There
is, by the way, a curious superstition about these birds.
If they come close to a house and sing three times,
they prophesy a death in the family ; if five times, a
birth, and if seven times a wedding. It is strange
that man and animals should fall so readily into the
primitive life, and allow the instincts to regain their
original and legitimate sway over the habits. Even
the very cows learn the customs of the bush in a mar-
vellously short time, and walk with the same lifted
step as the antelope that has spent all its life in the
forest. One night, as we were concealed under the
shade of a tree, a light crackling of dry sticks was
heard. We drew deeper into the shadows, assured our-

N

178 OUT OF DOORS.

selves that nothing white was visible in our dress, and
that our sticks were well grasped, for a night walk in
the New Forest is not without its perils, the poachers
being perhaps the most crafty and desperate set in
England. Man or beast, however, the creature passed
by, but kept so closely in the shade that we could not
even catch a glimpse of its form. Stealing gently to
the spot we felt the ground carefully, and soon found
the fresh spoor of a cow, which had got into the forest,
and instinctively moved as if it were liable to be hunted
as soon as seen.

After a number of experiments we found that
nothing is so utterly invisible in a forest at night as
darkish grey, but not too dark. Black is seen with
comparative ease, red is nearly invisible, and so is
brown, but with dark grey the only visible portions are
the hands and face, so that a pair of dark gloves and a
dark mask would render a human being quite undistin-
guishable at two yards, provided he remained in the
shade, and did not allow his form to be defined against
the sky.

One night was truly memorable. We had started
as usual, when we saw an odd kind of light among the
trees for which we could not account. First we thought
it was a paper lamp hung up by way of a trick, but
soon found that it was far beyond the trees. Surely it
must be Capella shining dimly through a fog, but on
looking more carefully Capella was discovered without
any fogginess about it. Suddenly my companion gave

THE CHILDREN OF THE NEW FOREST. 179

a hideous shriek, executed a pas de seul expressive of
astonishment, and employing, as is his custom when
excited, language more remarkable for energy than
for elegance, cried out l that it was a thundering big
comet, as safe as the bank ! ' And so it proved to be.
No more forest for us that night ; but out came the
telescope, the sextants, and the note-book, and the whole
evening was passed in taking observations and running
into the house to record them. As the comet
stretched its mighty train over the zenith, great was
the excitement as its vast proportions expanded with
the darkness of night. * I'll get its angles with the
stars,' cried my friend, ' and you measure its length.'
Off to the house at full run.

' How many degrees ? '

' Eighty-two and a half.'

1 Humbug ! I don't believe it.'

4 Look for yourself then.'

' Must have been wrongly handled ; I'll measure it
myself.'

Off rushes the excited astronomer, sextant in hand,
and in five minutes is back again.

' How many degrees is it now ? '

4 Eighty-six I make it.'

And in this manner we spent the greater part of
that night, the comet seeming to lengthen with every
hour. It was certainly a most startling occurrence.
No one expects to walk out of a house according to
usual custom, and to meet a full-blown comet in the

N 2

180 OUT OF DOORS.

face. But here was the stranger, waving its flaming
sword over our heads, and stretching its vast length
over a greater space of sky than was occupied by the
great comet of 1858, which had spent so many weeks in
attaining its full size.

Much more is there to say of the New Forest, of
the many-tinted flowers, its wealth of insect life, its
wild and piquantly-flavoured fruits, and its wonderful
depth of foliage, its grand old trees, among which the
' king beech ' raises its royal head in token of supe-
riority. It is indeed almost a new world, and to a
Londoner affords a fresh current of ideas that regene-
rates the mind like fresh blood to the heart. Here all
conventionalities cease. Mrs. Grundy could not live for
five minutes in the forest depths ; there are no neigh-
bours to criticise the appearance, no gossips to decry
the character. Man lives for a while the real unsophis-
ticated life of Nature, and, it may be, will learn many a
lesson for which he will be the better until his dving
day, and perhaps after it. And those privileges may
be gained by just taking a railway ticket for the nearest
station to the Forest (say Southampton), where the
traveller will be deposited in less time than is often
occupied in getting to an awkward suburb of London.
But our space is at an end, and we must reluctantly bid
a farewell to that valued spot, hoping soon to visit it
again.

181

A BLACKBERRY BUSH IN AUTUMN.

SOME years ago an Australian settler was on a journey,
and, as he travelled, he saw what he took for the
moment to be a blackberry bush. Of course it was
not a blackberry bush, but the very semblance of the
familiar bramble, with its well-remembered berries, so
stirred his recollections of childhood, that he could not
rest until he was on his way back to the old country.
I can fully sympathise with his feelings, for I confess
to a very strong affection for the blackberry, which I
always visit whenever there is an opportunity, though
I care not for its fruit.

Within a few yards of my house there is one black-
berry bush for which I have the strongest admiration,
and there are few days when I do not visit it. It
stands by itself in a pasture field, of which it forms
one of the most conspicuous features.

There are plenty of trees in the field. Nearest to
the blackberry is a clump of horse-chestnuts, one of
which is rapidly dying, having evidently been attacked
by the great white grub of the stag-beetle, an insect
which absolutely swarms in this part of the country,

182 OUT OF DOORS.

and which, as it passes several years in the larval state,
and feeds all the while upon the tree, makes no small
damage in the neighbourhood.

It is easy to detect the trees that are afflicted with
this destroyer. They first show signs of decay in the
upper branches, and the tree gradually dies down to
the root. If it be cut down, and the stump opened,
the cause of the disease will at once be evident in the
shape of large soft, grey, white, shining grubs, with
very large and lumpy bodies, and a pair of horny,
powerful jaws, between which anyone who gets a finger
will repent it, and so obese that like Basil Hall's fat
pig ' Jean,' the creatures cannot stand on their little
legs, but are obliged to lie perpetually on their sides.

At some distance is a row of silver birches, their
shining stems glistening against the background of
brackens which stretch beyond them ; a tall, weeping
birch waves its feathery plumage in the breeze, and
around is a fringe of elms, oaks, and poplars, with one
or two fine cedars spreading their ' dark layers of
ehade ' in the middle distance.

It might seem that a simple blackberry bush would
look quite insignificant in the midst of such surround-
ings ; but, in reality, they only serve to set forth its
beauty, there being no similarity, and therefore no
rivalry between the forest trees and the blackberry
bush.

It is not, however, an ordinary blackberry, but the
very king of blackberries. It forms a round clump,

A BLACKBERRY BUSH IN AUTUMN. 183

some ten feet in height, and fifty in circumference,
looking in the distance more like a haystack than a
blackberry bush. It owes its form entirely to nature,
and not to art ; the long, flexible stems having sprung
up, and, when they became too heavy to bear their own
weight, having drooped over until they touched the
ground. This has gone on year by year, each season
adding to the size of the clump, and therefore to the
length of the new stems. One stem of this year's
growth is at least twenty feet in length, and at its
base about as thick as a man's thumb. It has sprung
from the middle of the clump, forced its way to the
light, and then continued to grow so rapidly, when it
could put forth its leaves, that it has overhung the
whole of the clump, and its end lies trailing over the
ground. Just in the same way, and for the same
reason, the ferns in the New Forest run up to consider-
able heights, often exceeding eleven feet from the
ground to their tips.

If the long trailing branches be drawn aside, the
whole clump is seen to be constituted in a most curious
manner. A mere shell of foliage and living shoots
envelopes it, while the centre is composed of a thick
tangled mass of dead, dry, and shrivelled branches,
through which a few powerful shoots, such as that
which has just been mentioned, have forced their way.
Such a spot as this is just the place which rabbits love.
All round the clump their resting places are at once
discernible by a practised eye, the grass being pressed

184 OUT OF DOORS.

downwards in a sort of partial spiral, caused by the
way in which the animals turn round and round before
they lie down — a relic of wild life which has survived
even in our domestic dogs. Many birds, by the way,
make the foundation of their nests after a similar
fashion, arranging a quantity of grass in the required
place, sitting on it, and spinning round and round
until they have worked a suitable hollow in it. Some
thirty or so of these resting places are plainly seen,
and while I was looking at the clump the other day,
out popped a rabbit, without noticing me, as I was
standing perfectly still. Suddenly the little animal
detected a strange presence, and scuttled back again
very much faster than it had come out.

As to position, this splendid blackberry bush is
most favourably situated, being sheltered by trees on
nearly every side, and only exposed towards the south.
So much for the bush itself ; now let us note its aspect
in two periods of the autumn — namely, the beginning
and towards the end.

It is a fine, warm, but not sultry day at the begin-
ning of autumn, with a rather smart breeze, which is
very pleasant in one respect, but rather disagreeable in
another, inasmuch as it keeps at home so many insects
which would otherwise be abroad.

As far as flowers and leaves go the bush is in its
prime. Its whole surface is covered with flowers in
various stages of progress. Some of them have nearly
run their course ; their petals are bent backwards, so

A BLACKBERRY BUSH IN AUTUMN. 185

as to show their numerous yellow stamens, and the
nascent berry beneath them — rough, small, and giving
little promise of its future excellence. On the same
branches are very pale green, sharply-pointed buds,
that are yet unopened, while others have just broken
the green calyx, so as to show the pinky petals as they
lie folded within. Except the way in which the ample
gauzy wings of the earwig are folded under its tiny
wing-case, I know no natural packing so wonderful as
that of a flower while yet in its bud state. Even with
the small petals of the blackberry the arrangement of
the folds is worthy of attention ; but in large-petaled
flowers, which are often enclosed in comparatively
small buds, the complicated and yet simple disposition
of the folded petal is almost beyond the power of de-
scription— entirely beyond it without the aid of ex-
planatory diagrams.

The leaves are all of the brightest green, with two
exceptions. On many of them are the tortuous tracks
of the tiny leaf-miner caterpillar, creatures so small
that they pass the whole of their lives between the
upper and under surfaces of the leaves, feeding on the
soft substance, called parenchyma, that lies between
them. Often they light on the toothed edge of the
leaf, and whenever they do so they seem unable to quit
the edge, though we think they would find more nutri-
ment by following the example of many of their fellows,
and eating- their way boldly into the middle of the leaf.
But like the mariners of old, who were always obliged

186 OUT OF DOORS.

to keep near the shore, they were afraid to trust them
selves in the open leaf, and followed every little pro
jection with conscientious regularity.

Anyone who wants to know how gorgeous a British
insect can be, let him tie a piece of gauze over some
of these mined leaves, and watch them until a tiny
moth appears in the gauze, the perfect state of the
little caterpillar that made the zigzag track. It will
be so small that it hardly looks like a moth at all, its
outspread wings together not being as large as the
letter 0. Take the little creature to the microscope,
concentrate a beam of light on it, and then, if you can,
find words to describe its glories. It is useless to do
so by comparing it with diamonds, sapphires, rubies,
emeralds, gold, or so forth, because the moth infinitely
surpasses the gems, and if we say that some imperial
suite of jewels approaches the splendour of the leaf-
mining moth, we should almost appear to be dis-
paraging the insect. There are plenty of these won-
drous little moths, every species having its own special
beauties.

Some of the leaves are seen to be rolled up in
little cylinders, while others are merely doubled, their
edges being brought together and fastened. The dif-
ference of behaviour exhibited by the inhabitants of
the rolled and folded leaves is very remarkable. If we
pick one of the rolled leaves, out tumbles a little cater-
pillar, and drops to the ground, letting itself down by
means of a silken thread, upon which it means to re-

A BLACKBERRY BUSH IN AUTUMN. 187

turn to its dwelling when the danger is over. Pick
one of the folded leaves, and the inhabitant gives no
sign of alarm. Open it carefully, and there is the
caterpillar inside, bright green, stretched out quite
straight, and pressed so tightly against the central leaf-
rib that at first sight it is not easy to discriminate
between the insect and the leaf.

I noticed, on the same bush, two other curious in-
stances of protective resemblance. One was that of a
large tipula, one of those insects we collectively know
as daddy long-legs. Whenever these flies settled on
the bush, they invariably chose the flower-stalk as their
resting-place, so that their legs, wings, and bodies
became mixed up with the diverging lines of the
flower-stalks ; and if the eye were once taken from
them they could hardly be detected.

The second instance was a much more singular one.
Great numbers of the common garden-spiders had hung
their wheel-shaped webs among the branches of the
bush. One was a very beautiful spider, with a bright
green body, so conspicuous, indeed, that I wondered
how it could ever escape observation.1 So I gave the
net a jerk, in order to alarm the spider. As soon as
she felt the jerk she left the web, ran along a plant to
the spot where two leaves sprang from the stem,
plunged into the angle formed by their junction, and
tucked away her legs under her. In this attitude her
green body looked so exactly like a small leaf-bud that

1 Epeira cucurbitina.

188 OUT OF DOORS.

it was hardly possible to persuade myself that the crea-
ture was not a veritable bud. And the similitude was
increased by a little red spot at the end of the tail, which
exactly represented the red top of an unopened bud.

On the particular day which I have mentioned there
was too much wind to please the insects, very few of
whom, therefore, made their appearance on the black-
berry bush. The hive-bees were tolerably busy among
the flowers ; as, indeed, they always are whenever they
have a chance. Humble bees also came with their
heavy hum, and accordingly, when a hive-bee and a
humble-bee wanted to take to the same flower, there
was a difference of opinion, which, however, never came
even to the semblance of a fight. Several species of
solitary bees also came, more apparently for the pollen
than for honey.

Many ichneumon flies were fussing about among
the foliage, but I have not yet been able to discover
the object of their search. I suspect, however, that
some of them at least may have come after the leaf-
rolling and leaf-folding caterpillars. We know that
there are some ichneumon flies which can even get at
larvae that are buried in the trunks of trees, boring
through the solid wood with the long hair-like ovi-
positor, and contriving, by some wonderful instinct, to
hit upon the very spot in which the larva lies hidden,
and to pass an egg into its body along the ovipositor.
So I thought that these ichneumons, especially those
which had tolerably long ovipositors, might be on a

A BLACKBERRY BUSH IN AUTUMN. 189

similar errand, endeavouring to pierce the caterpillars
within their leafy houses. I could not however detect
one ichneumon so engaged, though I watched very
carefully.

Several species of hoverer-fly were about the bush,
settling occasionally on the flowers. These beautiful
and strong-winged insects care little for wind, and may
be seen enjoying their brilliant life on the wing when
even the bees scarcely like to venture out of their hives.
Some of them bear a curious resemblance to wasps, and
others to bees, so closely imitating those insects, not
only in shape and colour, but in action, that no one
who is not a practical entomologist will venture to take
one in his hand.

Of beetles there were but very few. Some of the
tiny pear-shaped weevils were crawling slowly over the
leaves, clinging to them very firmly, considering that
they were sharply agitated by the wind. Some of the
long-bodied, soft-skinned beetles, known as soldiers and
sailors, according to their red or blue colour, were
paying their respects to the blossoms. They are
usually to be found on umbelliferous flowers, but there
are few plants on which they may not be seen. They
are rather quick on foot, and have a fashion of quivering
their long antennae in a manner exactly resembling
that of the ichneumon flies.

There is a peculiar trait of character among these
beetles. Being so soft-bodied, they seem little fit for
combat, and yet there are no insects more apt to fight,

J90 OUT OF DOORS.

or more ferocious in their battles. They are as fierce
and quarrelsome as game-cocks, and, like them, will
fight to the very death. But the game-cock when he
has vanquished his opponent merely proclaims his
victory aloud and leaves his antagonist, whether he be
dead or disabled. The soldier and sailor beetles, how-
ever, are not satisfied with the death of their adver-
saries, but must need consummate their victory by
eating their conquered foes. Vce victis is their motto,
and thoroughly is it carried out. If the doctrine of
development be true, the Fijians must have been
soldier beetles at some early stage of their progress
towards humanity, and retained their custom of devour-
ing their slain foes, though they have sadly deteriorated
in point of courage.

TOWARDS THE END OF AUTUMN. — The Blackberry
bush now assumes a new aspect.

It is different in itself, its surroundings are different,
and its visitants are different. The clump of distant
trees on its western side gives many a sign that the
fob' age has passed its prime and has taken the first step
towards decay. The leaves have darkened, and many
of them show the brown tint of fading life round their
edges, while the whole tree is studded with the green
balls of the prickly fruit, some of which have burst and
shed their richly coloured contents, while others hang
unbroken on the boughs. The birch trees show bright

A BLACKBERRY BUSH IN AUTUMN. 191

yellow spots here and there among their foliage, the
elms are dropping their leaves and are visibly more
bare than they were a fortnight ago, while the back-
ground of bracken has lost its beautiful green, and is
little more than a mass of yellow and brown, flecked
sparely with green where a few of the younger plants
still preserve their colour. Only the oaks remain
apparently unchanged, but then they are always late,
both in getting their foliage and losing it. Indeed, so
tenacious are the leaves of their hold, that they cling
to their branches throughout the winter, and only fall
when the new leaves of the ensuing spring force them
from their place.

But the greatest change of all has fallen on our
blackberry bush. All its bright freshness has gone,
and there is little to remind us of its vanished beauties.
The leaves are dull, harsh, and brittle, and most of them
are dimmed with many a spot and patch of black,
yellow, or brown, while in many cases all three colours
are to be found on the same leaf, a few straggling and
uncertain dashes of the original green being left between
them.

In fact, the leaves have now almost fulfilled their
mission both to the plant and its visitants. The
winter's repose is at hand, the plant will no more
extend its growth ; the rootlets which supply it with
nourishment have served their office, and the leaves,
which are its lungs, need no longer supply it with air.
There is a wonderful and very close analogy between a

192 OUT OF DOORS.

hibernating animal and a tree in winter time. Indeed,
the latter is truly a living creature, though on a lower
plane than the lowest of the animals, and, as a partaker
of life, it accepts the two conditions of life — nutriment
and respiration. Let the creature, whether plant or
animal, be able to exist for a time without the former
of these conditions — or, rather, to exist for a time on
a store of nutriment already laid up — and the latter
condition may be almost in abeyance.

Take, for example, any of our hibernating animals,
from the mammal to the insect, and see how slight and
almost imperceptible is the respiration during the time
that nourishment ceases. We need not take into con-
sideration those insects which, in a perfect state, consume
no nourishment whatever, and yet act and respire
vigorously. Every one of them lives but a very short
life. They are burning away the stores of fuel already
laid up, and a few days at most are the utmost limit of
their existence. They have just sufficient vital power to
seek their mates and deposit their eggs, and straightway
die. But the plant has a comparatively long life before
it, and so has the hibernating animal ; and therefore
during the winter time there is vitality enough to
enable the creature to revive itself when the season of
spring comes round in its annual course. Specially is
this the case with the tree. Battered, withered,
pierced, torn, and half-eaten, the leaves of one year
could never act as efficient respiratory organs for the
increased needs of the tree in the ensuing season. So

A BLACKBERRY BUSH IN AUTUMN. 193

the old leaves fall in the autumn of the fading year,
only to be replaced by fresh and vigorous foliage in the
coming spring, their multitudinous air passages un-
choked and undamaged, and their myriad mouths wide
open to receive the breath of life.

Look, for example, at those leaves of our blackberry
bush, and see how utterly unfit they are for their
proper work. There is scarcely one of them that is not
in some way injured by causes external to it itself.
The slime track over some gnawed and scalloped leaves
tells that snail or slug, or both, has passed that way.
On others the now transparent tracks of the leaf-
miner caterpillar show that the respiratory value of
that particular leaf is a thing of the past. Next comes
one of the rolled or doubled leaves, abandoned long ago
by its original maker, but never tenantless. Open one
of these deserted habitations, and out scuttles a spider,
or perhaps three or four earwigs, -and now and then a
woodlouse. If you wish to take a lesson in the art of
packing, catch one of the earwigs, kill it by dashing it
into boiling water, take it out at once, and unfold one
of its wings. When every crease is laid open try to
re-fold the wing, and put it back in its place. "With
two hands, a microscope, and unlimited instruments,
you "will scarcely achieve in two hours the task which
the insect completes in two seconds, with nothing but
its tail pincers by way of tools.

So much for the leaves at the end of autumn. As
for the flowers, they are nearly all gone. A few — a

o

194 OUT OF DOORS.

very few — still remain, to which assiduous attention is
being paid by sundry bees and hoverer flies, and all
these are on the sheltered side of the bush. Over the
whole of the clump the berries have taken the place of
the flowers. There is a curious lack of berries through
the lower parts of the bush, scarcely a respectable berry
being visible within four feet of the ground. This
phenomenon is soon explained, for I meet a couple of
fair golden-haired children, taking turns at driving a
wheelbarrow half full of blackberries, every one of which
has been picked from this special bush, and to every
one of which they are heartily welcome.

All the northern side of the bush is flecked with
large tufts of thistledown. The thistles themselves
are a long way off, growing on some neglected ground,
and the sharp north wind has stripped them of their
down, and whirled it along until it has been intercepted
by the prickly branches of the blackberry bush. That
the whole land is not overrun with thistles we are
indebted to the finches, the principal of which in use
and beauty is the goldfinch, flocks of which may be
seen flitting along the hedges or over the ground,
picking up the thistledown as it is whirled lightly
along by the wind.

There is still too much wind for insects. In this
part of the country at least, which is perched on the
top of a hill, the present season has not been favourable
for insects. When the weather has been fine and the
sun hot, there has been a smart breeze blowing ; and

A BLACKBERRY BUSH IN AUTUMN. 195

when the wind has fallen the sky has been cloudy,
often raining, and the barometer has fallen. However,
the very fact of the windy weather has brought out
some insect faculties in a way that could not have been
observed during a calm.

For example, the splendid peacock and red admiral
butterflies whirl by us, making a circle or two round
the bush as if tempted by its flowers or fruit — most
likely the latter, and are then carried off by the breeze
as if any number of blackberries were not worth the
trouble of fighting the wind.

A deep ominous hum and a yellow streak in the
air. Another hum and another yellow streak. These
are hornets, the last survivors of their community.
They have a nest somewhere in the grounds and are
going straight to it. In a week or two more not a
hornet will be found in the nest, though some females
will survive in the winter, hung up somewhere, in bat
fashion, by the claws of their hind legs, eating nothing,
and scarcely breathing at all until the succeeding
spring-tide releases them to a brief period of activity.
Never a male hornet lives through the winter. He is
not wanted and therefore does not exist in a world
which tolerates no idlers.

Still the ichneumon flies are prowling about, and
chief among them is that large, pale yellow species,
with its long antennse and sickle-shaped body, which
is called, scientifically, Ophion luteum. Looking to
the usual habits of ichneumons, it is rather a night flier

o 2

196 OUT OF DOORS.

than a denizen of day, and has a habit of getting into
rooms after the lamps are lighted, flying into the flame,
scorching itself, and falling on the table, where it spins
about until some one mercifully puts it out of pain.
It is rather a formidable insect to handle, behaving
exactly as if it had a sting, and if touched, it brings the
end of its body against the fingers just as a wasp or bee
would do.

Presently there is a quick ruffling sound, and some
large insect swoops past. It is a dragon-fly, which is
out on a marauding excursion, taking the blackberry
bush as its base of operations. It is curious to see how
the movements of a dragon-fly in search of prey re-
semble those of a flycatcher. The bird takes a stand
on some elevated spot, and then makes short flights
into the air, catching an insect, and returning to its
post. So does the dragon-fly. It picks out some suit-
able resting-place, and makes that the spot whence it
issues in search of prey. It settles, waits for a moment,
and then, as if a hidden spring were touched, down go
all its wings with a jerk, and the creature remains
motionless except its head, which is twisted from side
to side in a way that is almost comical, while its great
round eyes glow in the sunshine like a pair of opals.
Suddenly, and without any previous preparation, off it
darts into the air, makes a bold swoop or two, and then
returns to the spot whence it started.

I noticed two peculiarities in its habits. In the first
place, like the daddy long-legs, which has already been

A BLACKBERRY BUSH IN AUTUMN. 197

mentioned, the dragon-fly always contrived to make
itself look exactly like the object on which it was
settled. Its favourite post was a dried twig, from
which projected a few withered leaf-stalks and parts of
leaves. On this twig the insect took its station, sitting
longitudinally, so that its slender body coincided with
the outline of the twig, and its motionless wings looked
wonderfully like the withered leaves. Not even its legs
betrayed it, as they were not spread out, the tip of each
foot taking a separate hold, as is generally the case with
insects, but were all gathered closely together, like those
of a goat when the animal is standing upon a narrow
ledge.

In the next place it invariably darted into the air
whenever there came a sharper gust of wind than usual.
At first I thought that the insect had simply been blown
from its hold, but then reflected that a dragon-fly is a
powerful and tight-clinging insect, and not likely to
allow itself to be blown from its foothold. Moreover,
its station was on the sheltered side of the bush, where
the effect of the gusty breeze was very trifling. After
watching it for a time I found out the motive of its
actions — a motive which points rather to reason than to
instinct on the part of the dragon-fly.

As a rule, the insects which were on the wing were
at such times unable to resist the sudden gusts of wind,
and were whirled away with out much power of directing
their course. The firm, large, and powerful wings of
the dragon-fly, however, were nearly independent of the

198 OUT OF DOORS.

wind, so that the insect of feeble flight was completely
in its power — I was going to say, at its mercy, only
that it has none. In fact, the dragon-fly has at such
times an advantage over most other flying insects, much
like that which is enjoyed by a steamer over a sailing
vessel when both are making their way against contrary
winds.

In this way insect after insect was captured, various
species of frog-hoppers, by the way, appearing to form
the staple of the dragon-fly's food. Their two white,
milky, slight wings had no chance against the four
swift wings of the dragon-fly, which swooped at them
as they were blown along helplessly by the wind, caught
them with unerring certainty, settled on its resting-
place, gobbled them up with a couple of bites, just as
a mastiff disposes of a mutton chop, and then looked
hungrily round for more prey.

Let everyone who values the balance of Nature pro-
tect and encourage the dragon-flies as much as possible.
They do no harm in any way, and they do an infinity
of good by feeding upon insects, many of which are
destructive either to the field, the garden, or the
orchard.

199

THE REPOSE OF NATURE.

Six months have passed since my readers took with me
a * Summer's Walk through a Country Lane.' The
earth has since then accomplished nearly one half of its
aerial course ; and reader, author, and lane have tra-
versed a space of some two hundred and seventy million
miles, passed through the seasons of genial Summer,
fruitful Autumn, and have commenced the cold Winter
time, the season of the earth's repose. Our beautiful
trees, with their heavy masses of varied green, have
changed gradually from bright emerald to dark olive,
and passed through successive phases of redundant
colouring that defy the artist's brush to imitate, until
they have finally settled down into ruddy brown and
sombre grey. The leaves have fluttered one by one to
the earth, which lies below waiting to receive their
withered forms into her bosom. She waits to transmute
these effete particles into new forms of life and beauty,
and to cause a future progeny of young and vigorous
leafage to spring Phoenix-like from the funeral pyre of
their ancestors, spontaneously raised under the shadow
of their parental tree, fired by the hot beams of the
summer sun, fanned by the breezes of spring, and

200 OUT OF DOORS.

quenched by the rains of autumn and the snows of
winter.

Our hedges are bare and scanty, with the bright
light shining through their denuded gaplets that so
recently were veiled with rich verdure and blossoming
flowers ; our path is hard, sharp, and treacherous, and
our feet likely to slip from the frozen pebbles and
deposit us in the ditch, lately so full of flowers, but
now containing a mixture of snow, water, dead thorn-
branches at the bottom, and a few thistle-stems and
nettle-leaves on the sides, that render such a locality a
singularly unpleasant sojourn. Even our dear little
pond is covered with ice, except where a few persevering
ducks have swum so continually round a tiny circle that
the water still bubbles through the icy covering, and
where the cattle have still managed to break away the
frozen surface in order to drink, thereby kneading the
water into a kind of muddy paste, and covering the
neighbouring ice with most unsightly brown splashes.
Our little streamlet is dry, and the many creatures
that disport themselves in its rippling waves have dis-
appeared.

Gone are the insect tribes, whose busy bum gave
such life to the scene ; not even a beetle is to be seen
taking a short stroll from one tree-root to another;
hardly a bird has enough spirit to utter its lively
chirrup, and the very robin himself, with his brown
coat and red waistcoat, has gone off to the farmyards
and houses, trusting to his insinuating ways, his sly

THE REPOSE OF NATURE. 201

boldness, and the irresistible compassion excited by his
pitiful aspect as he sits outside the windows, with
ruffled feathers, sunken head, and bright eye gleaming
from the downy plumes. The cunning little fellow
seems to feel that no one sitting in a warm room, at an
abundantly spread table, can resist opening the window
and giving a hearty welcome to the ' ittle baird with
boothom wed,' as one of my child-friends is accustomed
to call him. So the window is raised, and in comes
the feathered mendicant, at first shy and fearful, keeping
at a respectful distance, and picking up the crumbs
that are thrown to him, with many a sidelong hop and
great flirting of the wings.

Compassionate reader, if your premises should be
invaded by a poor, cold, half-starved robin, do not feed
him with bread-crumbs, but give him some little bits
of fat meat cut in long and thin strips like small
worms. Of course he will eat the crumbs provided he
can get nothing better, but he requires the meat to
supply his glowing frame with the capability of resist-
ing the chilling frost. He will not forget your kind-
ness, but day by day will make his appearance at your
window, hop about your table, eat out of your hand,
and repay you with one of his own bright songs, which
to my ears have the most charming mixture of mirth
and melody.

There is, however, one drawback in his character.
He is dreadfully jealous, and will not permit another
bird to avail itself of the hospitality to which he has

202 OUT OF DOORS.

been indebted for his life, and has been known to kill
in succession a whole series of unfortunate redbreasts
that happened to trespass on the ground which he con-
sidered as his peculiar property.

Perhaps our lane is knee-deep in snow, and path,
ditch, hedge, tree, and field are alike clothed with one
uniform mantle of shining white, glittering here and
there as the cold sunbeams sparkle on the sharp snow-
crystals that gleam like microscopic jewellery from every
spray.

Where are all the busy, merry creatures that flitted
among the branches, traversed the soil, or urged their
course through the waters? Some, such as certain
migratory birds, have flown to warmer regions, many
have perished with the first frosts, having completed
their earthly mission, while myriad others are still
living in some recess, quiescent to all external appear-
ance, but full of life and activity within, either sunk in
that marvellous state of existence which seems really to
be half-way between sleep and death, or undergoing a
total change of being, in readiness for the ensuing
spring.

We miss our little friend, the squirrel, from his
accustomed haunts. No longer is he to be seen scud-
ding about the grass in his own odd fashion, squatting
upright with his feathery tail curled parasol-wise over
his head, picking up a beech-nut with his fore-paws,
nibbling at it critically, and then throwing it away and
hopping after another. No longer can we amuse our-

THE REPOSE OF NATURE. 203

selves by rushing at him suddenly, and seeing him go
leaping over the ground with his brush trailing behind
him, and his body looking double its real length;
watch him jump at the trunk of a tree, slip round the
stem, scud up the branches, and then sit coolly on the
topmost bough, and look down at us with benignant
disdain.

Our little friend has gone to sleep for the winter,
and if you know where to find his ' cage,' you may
catch him asleep without much difficulty. Be it re-
membered that he has two homes, a summer and a
winter house ; the former being lodged in the fork of
some lofty branch, often near the end of a slight bough,
and very conspicuous from below, and the latter warmly
established close to the trunk of a goodly tree, sheltered
from chilling winds by the large limbs against which it
is placed, and defended from rain and storm by the
well-thatched roof and warm lining.

Snugly coiled in this warm recess the squirrel passes
his winter, spending very many consecutive hours in
that strange sleep which is called hibernation ; awaking
at intervals, when a gleam of warmer sunshine than
usual rests upon his cage, running to his hidden trea-
sury, taking a little refreshment, and then returning to
his house to fall asleep again. He has an excellent
memory, this little squirrel, and his faculties are not at
all beclouded by the long hours of sleep ; for as soon as
lie wakes he comes quietly out of his warm cottage,
scrambles down the tree, runs to one of the spots

204 OUT OF DOORS.

where he has laid up a store of food, scratches away
until he has disclosed his treasure of nuts, takes as much
as he needs, and returns to his home. Even when the
snow lies thickly on the ground he is at no loss, but,
guided by some intuitive power, proceeds to the spot
with unerring certainty, scrapes away the snow, and
secures his meal.

The squirrel has a distant relation, a kind of third
cousin once removed, well known under the title dor-
mouse, and often seen in cages, but not very frequently
in a wild state. This little creature is also one of the
hibernators, and has its warm nest in a thick bush,
much as the squirrel has its domicile in a tree, where it
sleeps its time away throughout the winter. Like the
squirrel, too, it has its store of food, not gathered into
the earth, but tucked away into sundry nooks and
crannies in the neighbourhood. The amount of food
which the dormouse takes during the winter, and the
frequency of its awakening, depend almost entirely on
the severity or mildness of the season. In a very sharp
winter the drowsy creature wakes but seldom, and very
little of its store is consumed, and indeed, even should
the season be mild, the inroads on the larder are but
few. The provisions are not gathered so much for the
winter as for the first few weeks of spring, when the
animal has at last shaken off its long wintry sleep,
and returns to its own lively habits, nature not yet
having supplied it with a sufficiency of food whereon to
live.

THE REPOSE OF NATURE. 205

The hedgehog, too, is another of our hibernating
animals, coiling itself up in a warm nest in some hollow
tree, or under the gnarled and projecting roots, and
occasionally seeking a domicile in a deserted rabbit-
burrow or disused fox-hole. All these three creatures
may be found sleeping in their homes, and are thus
easily captured.

As all these animals awake at intervals during the
winter, and partake of nourishment, they are said to be
partial hibernators, the best British examples of perfect
hibernation being exhibited by those singular winged
quadrupeds which we call bats.

If in winter we explore the recesses of almost any
hollow tree, any dark crevice in the rocks, or any old
deserted building, there we shall find, hanging by their
hind legs or gathered closely into thick clusters, some
bats, sunk in the deepest lethargy, and giving but
slight indications of life. All through the winter hang
the bats, with scarcely a movement of head or limb,
and, unlike the preceding animals, they never awake to
seek nourishment, as there would be none for them.

There seems to be no creature which spends so much
of its time in sleep as the bat. Not only does it lie
dormant throughout the winter, but it passes daily into
that strange state of drowsiness which is more than
sleep, though not quite so deep as in winter.

It is a popular but very erroneous notion, that this
torpor is caused by cold. Now, if this were the case,
the hibernating animals would place themselves in some

206 OUT OF DOORS.

cold and exposed spot, where they would be influenced
by the increasing chill of the weather. But it is found,
after a long course of experiments, including a most
valuable series by Dr. Marshall Hall, that the effect of
cold upon a hibernating animal is twofold; it first
awakes the creature from slumber, and then kills it.

During the time of its slumbers the extreme torpidity
of the vital organs is most curious, while the external
portions seem to acquire a proportionate irritability, a
phenomenon which is partially seen even in ourselves
during ordinary sleep. If, for example, a hedgehog
while in the torpid state be touched, it partially uncoils,
gives a peculiar deep grunt, and again curls itself up.
The bat, if touched while in this strange sleep, will
wriggle about like an injured worm, while the very
same touch would have no perceptible effect upon it
when awake. Indeed, the hibernating creature seems
to pass, for a time, into a lower state of being, as far as
its mere animal characteristics are concerned ; and the
bat, the highest of our British mammals, becomes
scarcely higher in its organisation than a toad or a
frog.

Instead of keeping up a high temperature, as is the
case while it is awake, it actually becomes colder than
many cold-blooded animals; the temperature of the
body exactly following that of the surrounding atmo-
sphere, the heat of the surface being about half a degree
higher, and that of the vital organs about three degrees ;
so that when a thermometer hanging beside the animal

THE REPOSE OF NATURE. 207

marked a temperature of thirty-six degrees, one whose
bulb was within the stomach only marked thirty-nine.
A similar phenomenon was observed by Dr. Jenner with
a hedgehog, when the internal temperature was a little
over three degrees above that of the air.

The reader must bear in mind that experiments of
this nature require the very greatest care, for the hiber-
nating state is of so delicate a nature, and so easily
disturbed, that a heedless footstep on the floor will
awaken the creature, set it breathing, and increase the
temperature some twenty degrees in a minute or two.

During the true hibernation the breath is almost
entirely suspended. Bats while sleeping have been
gently immersed in water kept carefully at the same
temperature as their bodies, have been sunk below the
surface for a space of sixteen minutes, and found to be
none the worse for their bath. A hedgehog has been
subjected to the same test for more than twenty minutes,
and although it moved slightly under water, and expelled
a little air from his lungs, it was not at all injured by
the experiment.

Hibernating animals have also been placed in car-
bonic acid gas for a space of several hours, without suf-
fering from its effects, while rats and sparrows placed in
the same gas fell lifeless to the bottom of the vessel and
did not recover.

In order to ascertain with accuracy the rate of re-
spiration and pulsation during this curious state, a hiber-
nating bat was placed in an ingenious instrument which

y08 OUT OF DOORS.

measures the quantity of air consumed by the creature
contained within it. After remaining twenty-four hours
in this machine, scientifically termed a pneumatometer,
the index gave no sign. The animal was then slightly
disturbed, and in the space of nearly three hours con-
sumed about one cubic inch of oxygen. But when more
disturbed, and forced to move briskly, it consumed five
cubic inches in one hour.

Although the respiration is thus checked, and the
lungs cease their labours, the heart continues to pulsate,
though slowly, making less than thirty beats in a
minute. So we have a most curious phenomenon, i.e.,
blood constantly circulating through the system without
any respiration to renew its vitality, and without even
the reservoirs of air which are possessed by the reptiles.

The reason of the long hibernation of the bats is
evident. They feed wholly on insects, which likewise dis-
appear during the winter months ; and if there were no
means of reducing the bodily functions to the lowest
ebb compatible with the retention of life within the
frame, the whole race of insect-eating bats would be
swept off the earth in a single winter.

It is sufficiently remarkable that the animals which
hibernate on account of the absence of food should
belong to the two extremes of the vertebrate kingdom.
The squirrel and dormouse might lay up a store so
large as to afford an abundant supply throughout the
whole winter ; but the bat, feeding only on animal sub-
stances, could not do so, and would starve but for the

THE REPOSE OF NATURE. 209

merciful torpor in which it is sunk for so long a time.
For precisely the same reason our British reptiles retire
during the cold months of the year into some deep
recess, and there remain torpid until the succeeding
spring brings with it the needful warmth and food.

Take, for example, two of our best-known reptiles,
the frog and the snake, both of which disappear during
winter for much the same reason. The frog lives chiefly
on insects, which all vanish in the winter months for
want of their vegetable food ; and the snake also retires
to winter quarters because it lives mostly on frogs,
which have hidden themselves until the spring. Both
these creatures, in common with many other reptiles,
burrow deeply in the earth or seek some snug recess as
soon as the autumn draws to a close, and, safe in their
homes, sink to sleep until the sunbeams recover their
warmth, again enliven the earth with verdure, and the
annual resurrection of the vegetable world has been
accomplished.

Then the renewal of that process takes place. The
plants put forth their tender shoots, the leaf-eating
insects come from their winter quarters to eat the
leaves, the frogs emerge from the ground to eat the
insects, and the snakes glide out to eat the frogs. Such
reptiles as the blind-worm, which feed not upon frogs,
but live on insects, slugs, and such-like creatures, are
earlier than the snakes, because they find their food
ready for them. Truly is it said, ' The eyes of all wait
upon Thee, 0 Lord, and Thou givest them their meat

p

210 OUT OF DOORS.

in due season. Thou openest Thine hand, and fillest all
things living with plenteousness.'

Strange discoveries are sometimes made in the
course of gardening operations, if people will only use
their eyes. A few years ago, while some workmen were
pecking up the gravel in a playground belonging to a
school at Oxford, preparatory to making certain altera-
tions, they came on a little colony of frogs, about seven
or eight inches below the surface, all sitting packed
closely together, and all with their noses pointing to
the surface. How long they had been in that situation
I could not discover ; but by comparing one circum-
stance with another, I came to the conclusion that the
frogs had settled themselves down for their winter's
slumber about two years previous to their disinterment,
been covered with gravel when the playground was laid
down, and had remained there perforce ever since.
They were so firmly imbedded in the earth that they
could not stir a limb, and must have depended wholly
for respiration and subsistence on the small modicum
of atmosphere and the very few insects that might
make their way through the minute crevices which
exist in all soil. In general the winter's retreat of the
frog is in the muddy soil at the bottom of some pool or
ditch, where they congregate closely together in masses,
and remain without need of food or respiration until
the spring.

In 1857 I was walking in the grounds of a gentle-
man living near Oxford, who was making considerable

THE REPOSE OF NATURE. 211

alterations in his domains. Observing a cavity rather
curiously hollowed in a bank that was evidently being
broken down for removal, I asked a man who was
working near at hand if he knew the cause of so odd a
piece of work. He told me that on the previous day
he was cutting down the bank, when he came upon
several large stones, and on removing them, he found a
whole mass of snakes, tightly coiled up together, and
closely filling the cavity in which they lay.

The hollow was about three feet from the surface of
the ground, and, as far as I could make out from the
aspect of the spot and the debris left by the workman,
must have been about four or five feet from the face of
the bank. I could not ascertain whether any aperture
was visible, or any channel of communication between
the hole where the snakes were found and the open air.
The man, of course, thought they were vipers, agree-
ably to the invariable tendency of the rustic mind,
which dreads the newt and the lizard, which are totally
harmless, more than the viper, which really possesses a
terrible store of poisoned weapons, and attributes to
the bright and innocuous dragon-flies a sting worse
than that of the wasp and hornet.

It has been already mentioned that a very great
proportion of the insect tribes which buzzed and
hummed so merrily during our summer walk have
died after providing for a numerous progeny. Such is
indeed the case ; but there are many insects which are
in full life, though at present in a state of partial tor-

212 OUT OF DOORS.

pidity, as is needful while the frozen ground and
withered foliage afford them no sustenance.

There are the bees, for example, all snugly asleep
in their hive, having contrived to keep up a sufficient
warmth for their winter's needs, and laid up a sufficient
store of honey for the little nourishment which they
require. If you could look into their hives you would
see the bees closely clustered together, and every un-
sealed cell containing a bee that has crept half-way
into it, and there lies comfortably sleeping. That
cold is injurious you can easily prove by gently tapping
the hive, when a little commotion is heard within, a
bee comes out to see what is the matter, and immedi-
ately falls dead from the frosty atmosphere. Only do
not repeat this process, unless you desire to lose all the
bees — for when these insects awake they must eat, and
unless they are kept perfectly quiet they will rapidly
consume their store, and then die miserably of cold and
hunger.

A few wasps, too, and other insects, may be found
in banks or similar localities, there awaiting the spring,
which will set them at liberty to initiate now house-
holds and multiply their species in a marvellously rapid
manner. The ant tribe too are patiently resting in
their subterranean beds, and will be amongst the first
ho arise in the Spring.

Few persons have any idea, as they walk in the
country on a winter day, how the ground beneath their
feet is teeming with life. Putting aside the earth-

THE REPOSE OF NATURE. 213

worms, and such creatures as have their normal exist-
ence below the soil, we will just look for ourselves, and
try to discover a few of the hidden wonders of this
most wonderful earth.

Let jis come to the feet of these elm and oak trees
that are planted on the bank of our lane, clear away
the snow, and begin to dig. In this sharp frosty
weather, we shall need the aid of a pickaxe or some
such weapon to pierce the frozen soil, but after the
first few strokes a trowel, or even a pocket-knife, will
answer tolerably well.

The best way to dig for insects is to peck up a
circular patch about eighteen inches in diameter, throw
aside the frozen clods, and then to work carefully down-
wards, so as to form a conical depression in the soil.
We shall hardly have dug four or five inches in depth
when we shall come to our hidden friends. A big
cocktail beetle is suddenly dislodged, rolls black and
bewildered to the bottom of the hole, picks himself up
again, runs at the supposed foe with open jaws, and
defiant tail curled scorpionwise over his sooty back — •
falters, stops, runs on again, but slowly, as if paralysed
— stops again, staggers, falls over and rolls back dead.
He has been killed by the frost, because he was roused
suddenly from his torpor.

Two or three more beetles of different species come
tumbling out, and all meet the same fate, though not
so dauntlessly as the cocktail. Presently we toss out,
together with the mould, a brown spindle-shaped ob-

214 OUT OF DOORS.

ject, blunt at one end, sharply pointed at the other,
and boldly ringed for half its length. This is the
pupa, or chrysalis, of some large moth, and while re-
moving it we lay our hands on one of the great mys-
teries of this world — a mystery, which, if rightly ex-
plained, would give the clue to many a bright truth
now hidden within labyrinthian doubts and hazy
theories.

At the very outset we are met with a paradox.
The frost killed the beetle that came from precisely
the same locality, and, of course, we might argue that
this creature would also die from sudden exposure to
the cold atmosphere, Nothing of the kind. Provided
we do not handle it roughly, we may take it home,
put it in a box, and in due time be rewarded by seeing
a grand wide-winged moth emerge from the dull case
in which it had so long lain, having suffered no injury
from its unexpected change of residence. The more
we dig, the greater number of living insects and pupae
shall we find, the former soon dying from the sudden
cold, and the latter suffering no apparent inconveni-
ence.

Here we have a totally different branch of the sub-
ject. What manner of state is this in which the
chrysalis apparently reposes ? It is not sleep, neither
is it hibernation, but something quite distinct from
both, and yet having a certain analogy to both. It is
not death, for the creature still lives, and yet it is a
kind of death to the caterpillar, which lately traversed

THE REPOSE OF NATURE. 215

the branches and fed on the green leaves, before it
descended to a grave beneath the tree on which it had
lived. It is not repose, for the vital powers are acting
with wondrous force, vehemence, and rapidity, trans-
muting the heavy green caterpillar into the airy-winged
moth, or rather evolving the one from the other,
through the intermediate form which now lies dull,
helpless, and apparently dead in our hands. Mystery
of mysteries, all is mystery — unexplained, though
perhaps not inexplicable — fraught, let us be sure, with
wondrous meanings, and waiting until He who poured
them from His all-creative being shall interpret their
hidden prophecies !

I have called this article the Eepose of Nature,
for want of a better word ; but, in truth, there is no
absolute repose in nature. All nature rebels against it,
and the powers of nature never cease from their labours.
' My Father works,' said the Lord, ' and I work ; ' and
this is the law of the universe, operating on all created
things alike. I fancy that there is nothing so abhor-
rent to the Great Worker as idleness — the pioneer of
all picking and stealing, evil speaking, lying, and
slandering. There is something within us which forces
us to acknowledge the majesty of work ; and the idlest
man living can but feel an involuntary respect for the
poorest industrious labourer who has died at his work,
and a pang of remorse at the contrast to his own useless
life.

All workers know that the truest rest is a change

216 OUT OF DOORS.

of occTipation, and that to be condemned to utter idle-
ness would be the most terrible punishment that could
be inflicted upon a human being. Why, even the poor
fashionable idler really works, in his way, as hard as
any of us, because getting amusement is much more
laborious than getting a living, becomes more difficult
every day, and leaves nothing but disappointment be-
hind it. Idle people are fond of talking as if they had
exhausted the world, and found it to be hollow and
empty — like that poor silly man, of whom we read the
other day in the papers, who shot himself because he
had been all over this world and thought it was time
for him to try another. Why, there is a sliver of a
cedar-pencil lying on my paper, and I will answer for
it that any ' used up ' personage who thinks that he
has exhausted the world and will just try to find out all
about that little slip of juniper wood will find life too
short for the task.

Look, for example, at the amount of work which is
achieved within this chrysalis lying before us, and just
think of the millions upon millions of similar beings at
this moment undergoing as complete a transformation,
from a terrestrial to an aerial state of existence ; their
form, constitution, organisation, wants, and habits so
totally changed that the one is wholly unrecognisable
from the other. Even to go back for a moment to our old
friend, the frog, what a wonderful law it is which takes
possession of the no-limbed, long-tailed, gill-breathing

THE REPOSE OF NATURE. 217

tadpole, and changes it into a four-legged, leaping, air-
breathing animal, without even a vestige of tail !

I know few pursuits more absorbingly interesting
than tracing the gradual change of a larva or cater-
pillar while passing through its various states until it
attains its perfected form, from which it never after
varies. It is an easy task enough, and may be accom-
plished by anyone who has, or who chooses to acquire,
a steady hand and a tolerable eye. Take any common
caterpillars of rather large size — silkworms will answer
the purpose well, and can easily be obtained — put two
or three into proof spirits, and let the others change
into their pupal form. Note the day that they change,
and put a few into spirits within an hour after their
casting off their caterpillar skin. Keep the rest, and
every two days put a couple into spirits until the moths
appear from the survivors, and then treat them after
the same fashion. You will then have a really valuable
series of objects, which by careful dissection under
water or spirits will unveil some great mysteries. It is
needful that the very early pupae should be kept in the
spirits for some weeks before dissection, as their in-
terior is so soft as to be little but a milky fluid, and
requires hardening with the spirits before it can safely
be touched.

It is most wonderful to see the gradual develop-
ment of the process by which a moth or butterfly is
evolved from the caterpillar; the leaf- eating creature
with its powerful jaws and huge stomach becoming a

218 OUT OF DOORS.

honey-sucker, with the most delicate digestive organ*
imaginable ; the creeping thing changed into a winged
being ; the nearly blind grub into a creature with eyes
of wonderful complexity ; and the whole form of body,
muscular system, nerves, and internal structure, being
totally changed to suit the altered condition in which
the remainder of its life will be spent.

Take, for example, the chrysalis which we have just
dug out of the ground, and suppose the brown outer
skin to be transparent while the process of evolvement
is going on. During its caterpillar state nearly the
whole of its body is filled with a huge stomach, extend-
ing throughout the greater part of its length, and
tightly filled with food, as is likely in a creature that
is always eating. The skin, which to the mass of spec-
tators seems to contain nothing but a soft pulp, ia
lined with an array of flat and white muscles, and the
whole space between these muscles and the stomach is
filled up with fat, formed into rather hard lumps of
variable dimensions, and penetrated with the breathing
tubes, and some very slight nerves. Along the abdo-
men, and just below the skin, runs a chain of little
knots of nerve-like substance, connected together with
double cords of similar material ; and along the back
lies a chain of valves, which is analogous to the heart
of the higher animals.

Throughout the transformation, the digestive, ner-
vous, and circulating systems retain their relative
positions, but are greatly altered in relative size and

THE REPOSE OF NATURE. 219

importance. The digestive organs are reduced to a
tithe of their former volume, the masses of loose fat
gradually shrink, while new members begin to make
their appearance, and increase imperceptibly from day
to day, gaining form and substance by the slow but
Divine and irresistible power which is equally exerted
in creating an universe or moulding a moth's plumage.

Mine ancient and constant enemy, lack of space,
here warns me that we shall not be able to examine the
whole structure of the future moth, and we will there-
fore restrict ourselves to the most obvious points of
difference between the caterpillar and the perfect insect,
namely, the wings. Under the skin of the back (and
these can be seen even in the caterpillar) are two little
projections, white, soft, and in shape not unlike the
two halves of a pea, but rather flatter. On raising
them with a needle it is found that each separates into
two portions; and, on further examination, we find
they are the latent wings in their unformed condition.

It seems incredible that within this little space
should be packed the beautiful wings which, when
spread, will contain several square inches of firm and
strong membrane, penetrated by air-cells, strengthened
by nervures, and clothed with myriads upon myriads of
delicately carved scales. Yet it is the fact ; and, when
the creature emerges from its case, we shall see how the
wings attain their full size.

When the moth leaves the chrysalis state, it crawls
up some perpendicular object, generally the native tree

220 OUT OF DOORS.

on which it has lived, and at whose foot it has burrowed.
It then takes several long and deep inspirations, which
have a perceptible effect in shaking out, as it were, the
hair- like plumage of the body, and causing it to assume
a brighter tint. It next slightly opens the wings, which
are still thick and solid, and totally useless for flight,
and communicates to them a rapid tremulous motion,
every now and then pausing to take a few deep breaths.
As it proceeds with this task, fold after fold is gently
shaken and smoothed out, each breath driving the air
through the tubes, which permeate every part of the
wings, and so strengthening these members by regular
degrees, until at last they stand out in all their beauty
— firm, strong, and pointed, and covered with a
blazonry more gorgeous than ever herald (except the
herald moth) endued.

Touch with a camel's-hair brush any part of the
wing so as to remove a few scales, dab the brush on a
slip of glass, put it under the microscope, and then see
how each particle of the almost imperceptible and im-
palpable coloured dust which clothes the wings becomes
manifest as an elegantly formed scale, sculptured with
designs of singular beauty and regularity, formed of at
least two, if not three, separate membranes, and waved,
toothed, or fringed at the extremity, according to its
position on the wing. Just consider how many hun-
dreds of thousands of these scales are needed to cover a
surface so great, and the inconceivable care which is
required, not only in making them, but in setting them

THE REPOSE OF NATURE. 221

in rows more regular than the slates on a house-top,
each over-lapping the other, and arranged so as to
defend the delicate membrane of the wing from mois-
ture. You cannot wet a moth's wing with water, for it
runs off in drops as if the wings were covered with
oil.

When were these scales made, and how were they
fashioned? No naturalist can give an answer, save
that they exist by the will of the Divine author. Truly
it is worth while to reflect upon the constant and
elaborate providential care which is required to form
the wing of a moth in so short a time, and to think
what laborious tasks are being elaborated in the earth
beneath our feet, while we superficially think that
nature is reposing. JS"ot even the trees are reposing,
although their branches wave, black and deathlike,
against the sky. They are silently but laboriously
concentrating their forces, settling the spots whence
new leaves and new branches are to spring, driving
fresh rootlets through the soil, in order to gather from
its various elements those particles which will be
needed to carry on the work of increase, and preparing
themselves with the instinctive foresight of the vege-
table kingdom for the labours of the ensuing year.

Even in so-called inorganic particles there is no
absolute repose ; for the chemist can detect in each
grain of sand below our feet, in each tiny mite that
dances and sparkles in the sunbeams, an array of
mighty forces acting together, and uniting for the

222 OUT OF DOORS.

time to preserve the object in the form which it at
present holds, but liable to be set free in a thousand
different ways, and then diverging upon their various
missions to do the will of the All- Worker.

He never slumbers nor sleeps ; and hence it follows
that as all existences proceed from Him, as all created
things begin and end in Him, all things must neces-
sarily be imbued with the spirit of eternal and cease-
less labour; and, though they may for a while rest
from their labours — and "their works do follow them" —
can never suffer stagnation, and much less be annihi-
lated. Each material particle which assists in the
constitution or the functions of our mortal bodies
brooks not stagnation for an instant, but with a
curious and evident analogy passes from death to life,
and becomes etherealised into its most rarefied and
gaseous forms, another being, and yet the same !

223

TURRET AND OYSTERS.

MANY affinities lie dormant in Nature.

How incredulous would have been the ancient
Briton in his light costume of woad, and the aboriginal
American in his war paint, had a Druid or a medicine-
man foretold that their far distant countries would
be linked together in gastronomic bonds, and that
the turkey and the oyster would be ever associated
in the minds of a future posterity! How their real
affinity was discovered is a problem as yet unsolved,
and too closely interwoven with the progress of
the human race to be examined in any work of less
dimensions than a folio. But the fact is patent, and
henceforth the turkey and the oyster are wedded
together as indissolubly as the bacon and beans of the
rustic, the whitebait and lemon-juice of the cabinet
minister, and the chops and tomato sauce of Mr.
Pickwick.

I may be justified in supposing that in every house-
hold where this essay will be read — that is to say, in
every respectable household throughout the kingdom —
a hamper containing a turkey and a barrel of oysters
has either been received or sent as a present elsewhere

224 OUT OF DOORS.

at Christmas. Sometimes both events occur simul-
taneously, and the same P. D. C. cart which takes away
a hamper containing a turkey and a barrel of oysters,
deposits another hamper containing another turkey and
another barrel of oysters. An enquiring mind cannot
but be struck with the enormous multitudes of birds and
molluscs that must be bred in order to supply even
the vast annual demand for Christmas, taking no ac-
count of those that are consumed during the other
seasons of the year.

To begin at the beginning. For the first knowledge
of the turkey we are indebted to Columbus, inasmuch
as the bird is indigenous to America, and is by no
means a native of Turkey, as is the general but mistaken
idea. The popular name was given to the bird in allu-
sion to its proud and haughty strut, its unconscionably
large harem, and its irascible temper. For at the
time when the bird was first brought into notice the
Turks were a dominant nation, with rather more than
the usual intolerant arrogance which is likely to cha-
racterise a people at once powerful, bigoted, ignorant,
and exclusive. Even at the present day, when the
once all-powerful nation has sunk into the position of
a mere province, whose very existence is only main-
tained by the common consent of surrounding countries,
the regular orthodox Turk is as supremely contemptuous
towards an infidel as in the days of his ascendancy,
though he dares not express his feelings except by low
and muttered curses. As it is, he will seize every

TURKEY AND OYSTERS. 225

favourable opportunity of applying the epithets of dog
and pig to casual unbelievers, and express the very
lowest opinion of their female relatives, so that in the
time of his power his arrogance must have been just
unbearable.

In our farm-yards, where the turkey knows his
place, and is subdued unto domesticity, he behaves in
a very different manner from the free wild bird in his
native woods, who lowers his crested head for none, who
rules with undisputed sway over his female train, and
has won his way to eminence by successive victories.
He is a grand bird and a proud one, as he stalks ma-
jestically through the woods followed by his obedient
troop, like a patriarch of old with his wives and chil-
dren ; ruffles his feathers and spreads his tail in sheer
exuberance of pride, and ever and anon gives vent to
that extraordinary sound which we call gobbling, and
which Arabs have mistaken for a dialect of their own
guttural language.

At the present day the turkey is a potent ally to
those far-seeing enquirers who are giving their best
endeavours to enrich this country by acclimatising the
useful denizens of other lands. There are many most
valuable creatures — beasts, birds, and fishes — which
are gradually being ' improved ' off the face of the
earth, and which, unless we grant them a resting-place,
will in a few years be as extinct as the mammoth, the
dodo, or the iguanodon.

The progress of civilisation is rapidly producing its
Q

226 OUT OF DOORS.

effect even upon the turkey. In former days the wild
turkey wandered in vast multitudes throughout the
northern parts of the United States, suffering but
little harm from the American Indian, and fearful
only of the natural enemies to which every wild being
is subject. Now, however, all is changed. First the
pioneers pushed their way into the interior; then
the squatters raised their log huts and made their
' tomahawk improvements ; ' next came the settlers,
each house forming the centre of an ever-enlarging
circle, within which no beast could venture without
imminent risk of death. Villages sprang from settle-
ments, cities grew out of villages, and man took undis-
puted possession of the territory that was no longer a
home for game.

A recent writer on American sports states that the
wild turkey is slowly but surely perishing. Few or
none are now to be seen north or east of Pennsylvania,
and only a very few in some of the remotest parts of
that State. In the wildest parts of Virginia a few
families yet linger, but they increase in number to-
wards Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and Kentucky. Those
who wish to see this noble bird in perfection must go
to Arkansas, Louisiana, Alabama, Mississippi, and Ten-
nessee— and even then, they will have to be well skilled
in the hunter's craft before they will come within
sight of the wary bird. Fortunately the turkey has
been acclimatised in many countries, so that there is
little real danger of its entire extinction. But though

TURKEY AND OYSTERS. 227

captivity does not destroy the race, it sadly dims their
colours, and in the third generation at the farthest
the brilliant purple lustre and glossy metallic bronze
of the back and wings, and the rich green, bright
chestnut, and velvety black of many feathers have
sobered into brown ochre, and dull sooty black.

Of course there are plenty of opponents who deny
the whole scheme as an impossibility. Some assert
that no animal will prosper except in its own land, and
that all imported specimens will die out unless re-
cruited by fresh arrivals. Now the turkey happens to
be one of the very beings whose existence is thus
denied. \Ve want no importation of wild turkeys from
America in order to add vigour to our domesticated
specimens, and the possibility of acclimatisation is thus
triumphantly proved. On the contrary, their habits
are already too wild ; they are terrible rovers, require
to be watched as carefully as a sentinel watches his
prisoners, and employ every device in order to escape
from constraint. A hen turkey, for example, always
tries to steal away just before laying, and establishes her
nest in some spot so well concealed that it frequently
escapes all the sharp eyes that have been searching for
it. It is by no means a rare occurrence for a hen turkey
to be suddenly missed from the farm-yard, and after
some weeks have elapsed to return with perfect com-
posure, leading a whole train of young chicks behind her.

The turkey has a great objection to confinement,
and is a very gipsy in its love for open air. If pos-

Q 2

228 OUT OF DOORS.

sible, it always roosts in a tree, and prefers to sit on
the branches during the coldest night, rather than rest
warmly in a comfortable shed. It is a charming bird
on the table, whether roast or boiled, but it gives great
trouble in the field. It loves to roam about and pick
up the insects, seeds, and other food that it may light
upon in the course of its rambles. It has a special
liking for traversing hedge-rows, and will spend hour
after hour in this pursuit, never seeming to weary, and
pecking away as smartly at the end as at the beginning
of its run. The only method of securing the return of
the turkey is to make a practice of feeding it well in
the evening, choosing some diet of which it is especially
fond. It is then sure to come home and partake of
the food, and can be quietly shut up while discussing
the viands.

Though a native of Northern America, and subject
therefore to extreme cold, it does not seem to bear our
comparatively mild winter when young, and is especially
sensitive to water, being apt to die if wetted. After
they have passed through their chickenhood the young
birds are much more hardy, and require less care. In
mere point of hardihood they are equal to any of our
indigenous birds, provided that they have fairly attained
their maturity. They can endure a severe frosty night,
spent in the open air, without apparent inconvenience,
even though their feet should be frozen to the branches
on which they have perched. But they are always
perilous creatures to manage, and will not repay their

TURKEY AND OYSTERS. 229

owner for his trouble, unless he takes pains to acquaint
himself with their habits.

One of the most dangerous periods is that wherein
the distinctive marks of the two sexes begin to appear.
The chicks require plenty of nourishing food during
the day, and must be carefully housed at night. As
soon, however, as the wattle on the forehead and the
wrinkled skin of the neck show themselves the danger
is considered as past. Then they will roost on the
topmost branches of trees, if they can manage to escape
from the watchful eyes of their keeper, a habit inherited
from their ancestors, who always perched in trees at
night in order to escape from the lynx and other rapa-
cious animals that prey upon these delicate-flavoured
birds. A whole flock will sometimes fly into a tree,
and when once among the branches will not come down
again. Altogether, they are restless, wandering birds,
and unless they are watched with the greatest care
they are sure to fail. Care, however, is the one great
essential in rearing these magnificent poultry, and even
in the most unfavourable parts of England flocks of
turkeys have been bred which will bear comparison
with the best specimens produced in Norfolk, the chief
county for these birds.

Now let us change our theme and pass to the oyster,
the natural companion of the turkey.

Even in the remote ages of the world, when Rome
was in the ascendant, the mistress of the globe, when

230 OUT OF DOORS.

our isles were deemed to be the extremest boundary of
the habitable world, and the fit home for pestilence and
disease, that had been driven by the power of the gods
from the City of the Seven Hills, Britain was yet of some
importance to the civilised world. She produced the
oyster. ' Natives ' are no modern delicacy. Lucullus
always had them on his table. They were set before
emperors, and devoured by certain imperial gluttons in
vast quantities that even surpassed the feats of their
modern imitator, whose name was, at the beginning of
the present century, as familiar in all men's mouths as
the oyster was in his own. If, too, we may judge by the
confessions of Christopher North, oysters were consumed
in the ' Noctes Ambrosianse ' with as much fervour as in
the ancient times, inasmuch as each member of the
famous trio seemed to consider himself hardly used if
he only had two hundred oysters by way of getting an
appetite for the supper that was to follow.

There is certainly something about a barrel of
oysters that wears a most fascinating aspect. For my
own part, I can hardly conceive a more luxurious enter-
tainment than to have a whole long winter's evening to
myself, with the unwonted feeling of nothing to do,
slippers, a bright fire, which will not smoke on any
provocation, unlimited Cobb's ale, a fresh barrel of na-
tives, and a vision of egg-flip to follow.

As to such heresies as pepper and vinegar, let them
be banished from the table whilst oysters are upon it.
These charming molluscs should always be taken un-

TURKEY AND OYSTERS. 231

mitigated, without losing the delicacy of their flavour
by a mixture with any condiment whatever, except their
native juice. Alas ! there are but few who know how
to appreciate and make use of these natural advantages.
Scarcely one man in a thousand knows how to open an
oyster, and less how to eat it. The ordinary system
which is employed at the oyster shops is radically false,
for all the juice is lost, and the oyster is left to become
dry and insipid upon the flat shell, which effectually
answers as a drain to convey off the liquid, which is to
the oyster what the ' milk ' is to the cocoa-nut.

Those who wish to eat oysters as they should be
eaten should act as follows : —

Hold the mollusc firmly in a cloth, insert the point
of the knife neatly just before the edge of the upper
shell, give a quick, decided pressure until the point is
felt to glide along the polished inner surface of the
under shell. Force it sharply to the hinge, give a
smart wrench rather towards the right hand, and off
comes the shell. Then pass the knife quickly under
the oyster, separate it from its attachment, let it fall
into the lower shell, floating in the juice, lift it quickly
to the lips, and eat it before the delicate aroma has
been dissipated into the atmosphere. There is as much
difference between an oyster thus opened and eaten, as
between champagne frothing and leaping out of the
silver-necked bottle, and the same wine after it has
been allowed to stand for six hours with the cork re-
moved.

232 OUT OF DOORS.

There is another method of eating oysters, wherein
no knife is required and not the least skill in opening
is needed, the only instrument being a pair of tongs,
and the only requisite being a bright fire. You pick
out a glowing spot in the fire, where there are no flames
and no black pieces of coal to dart jets of smoke exactly
in the place where they are not wanted, as always takes
place during the operation of making toast. You then
insert a row of oysters into the glowing coals, taking
care to keep their mouths outwards, and within an easy
grasp of the tongs, and their convexity downwards.
Presently a spitting and hissing sound is heard, which
gradually increases until the shells begin to open, and
the juice is seen boiling merrily within, the mollusc
itself becoming whiter and more opaque as the operation
continues. There is no rule for ascertaining the precise
point at which the cooking is completed, for everyone
has his own taste, and must learn by personal ex-
perience. A little practice soon makes perfect, and
the expert operator will be able to keep up a continual
supply as fast as he can manage to eat them. When
they are thoroughly cooked they should be taken from
the fire, a second batch inserted, and the still hissing
and sputtering molluscs be eaten ' screeching ' hot.

A true ostreophilist will never eat oysters in any
but one of these two methods, and holds that in oyster
sauce, oyster patties, scalloped oysters, and the many
other dishes in which these bivalves are employed, the
oyster is wasted, and the accessories might have been

TURKEY AND OYSTERS. * 238

turned to better account. No one who has not eaten
oysters dressed in this primitive mode has the least idea
of the piquant flavour of which they are capable. Stewed
in their own juice, the action of tire only brings out the
full flavour, and as the juice is consumed as well as the
oyster there is no waste, and no dissipation of the in-
describable but potent aroma.

The immediate contact of fire, the great purifying
and vivifying influence of the material world, has a
wondrous effect upon the objects submitted to its in-
fluence. There should be as few intervening substances
as possible between the fire and the food. Are not
chops and steaks broiled over glowing charcoal infinitely
superior to the very same viands fried through the
intervention of sheet iron and melted grease? The
nearer the fire the better the food. Take, for example,
a slice of bacon, dress it in any complicated way you
like, and I will engage to surpass the most intricate
efforts of cookery by merely laying the bacon on the
glowing and smokeless coals. It will not burn. It will
curl, and coil, and twist, and splutter, as if in extremest
agony ; it will be lapped in fierce flames, ' like the pale
martyr in his shirt of fire,' and it will pass from the
flames to the table in supreme condition, without a
particle of cinder upon it, with all the flavour retained,
and all the superabundant grease and salt burnt out.
Expertissimo credo Roberto.

Should any of my readers indulge in such a supper
as has been described, I can predict two events but not

234 OUT OF DOORS.

a third. I can foretell that the supper will be a most
luxurious one, and that the barrel will weigh sensibly
lighter after the banquet, but I cannot predict the
dreams that are likely to follow. One never knows
where to stop in eating oysters. They are as insidious
as walnuts or chocolate bon-bons, and the more you
take the more you seem to want. ' Only just one,"1 more
is said over and over again, until, like the little girl in
the story of the ' Three Bears,' the fascinated reveller
empties the dish.

The foregoing remarks will show that the present
writer is not insensible to the merits of the oyster,
considered in a gastronomical point of view. Not only,
however, is the oyster good to eat, but it is curious to
look at, and a philosopher will not fail to afford to the
mollusc a double appreciation.

See what a strange life the creature leads, fixed in
some definite spot, unable to stir an inch, and enclosed
between two large shelly cases. What does it eat?
how does it obtain its food ? and, above all, how does
it convey the nourishment into its interior ? Take, for
example, a periwinkle, a whelk, or any similar mollusc,
place it in the sea, fasten its shell firmly to some object,
and in a certain time the creature will die of starvation.
But place an oyster in precisely the same locality and
it will thrive admirably. The secret of its life lies
locked within its shells, and, if we open this two-leaved
volume we shall find the whole history written within.

Granting the barrel of natives, of which we have

TURKEY AND OYSTERS. 235

already spoken, let the inquiring- reader exercise great
self-denial, and lay aside one oyster for the purpose of
examining its curious structure. We will now plunge
the mollusc into boiling water for a few seconds, which
will have the effect of killing it without materially
injuring any of the delicate organs with which we shall
be concerned. Insert the tip of the oyster-knife be-
tween the edges of the shells, force them slightly apart,
and then look inside. The mass of the body will be
seen in the centre, and pressed against the shell are
two flat dark-edged flaps, popularly called the ' beard.'
Now this so-called beard is in fact the breathing appa-
ratus of the oyster, and has other functions besides
those of respiration, as we shall presently see.

Now open the shell entirely, remove the convex
valve, taking care to cut through the thick muscular
attachment close to the shell, and with the point of a
knife lift up these beautifully delicate membranes. They
are seen to be double, like the two shells, and on
tracing them round they will prove to end in the
mouth, which is close to the hinge of the shell, and
can be recognised by a double pair of white and pointed
lips. For some unknown reason the oyster has no
throat, but the mouth opens at once into the stomach,
just as the outer door of a cottage opens into the
sitting-room instead of the passage.

And if the curiosity of the investigator be not
quite satisfied, he can easily pursue his inquiries
further, and see what the oyster had for dinner, a most

236 OUT OF DOORS.

useful piece of knowledge to those who make their
living by breeding this agreeable mollusc. Still,
though we have found the mouth and ascertained the
food, we have not yet discovered the method by which
the food gets into the mouth.

It is found by investigation of the substances which
are taken from the interior of the oyster that its food
consists of the minute animal and vegetable organisms
with which the water of the sea is thickly charged.

If a living oyster be placed in water, and watched
while its valves are open, a continuous current is seen
to run through the shells, always passing in the same
direction, i.e. from right to left (taking the flat shell
as the upper one), and running between the gill mem-
branes. On examining the dark edges of the beard, or
gill membranes, we shall find that they are divided
into tiny filaments, and that each of these filaments is
covered with a myriad of the minutest imaginable
fibres, each of which is continually whirling with a
partially spiral movement, and producing an effect to
the eye as if successive waves were rolling along the
surface. A similar effect may be seen when the wind
rushes over a corn-field, and produces successive waves
which seem to advance rapidly, though each corn-blade
remains in its place.

By the united action of the countless hosts of these
fibres, technically called ' cilia,' the water is forced to
sweep along in one uniform direction, and, being driven
between the two gill membranes, is obliged to pass

TURKEY AND OYSTERS. 237

over the mouth, carrying with it the invisible objects
on which the oyster feeds. So powerful, indeed, is the
action of these wondrous little appendages, that if a
small portion of the gill be snipped off and placed in
the water it will swim away as if it were living, urged
by the invisible fibres, which work as briskly as ever,
though severed from the body. At the mouth the lips
take cognizance of the supplies, and evidently possess
the power of accepting the good articles and rejecting
the bad, just as the editor of a magazine decides upon
the articles which daily inundate his desk.

There is yet another office performed by the gill
membranes. Everyone is acquainted with that little
memoria technica which connects oysters with the
letter K, and tells us that they are out of season in the
months which do not possess this delightful letter. In
May, June, July, and August the oysters are not only
out of legal season, but are so in literal fact, being
thin, and quite unfit for food. Practically, however,
the oyster season is anticipated by a month, and on
August 1 the costermongers ply their busy trade
through the streets ; at every corner the itinerant fish-
monger invites his customers to the gritty board, the
great coarse molluscs, and the bottle of suspicious
vinegar; while the children erect little edifices with
the shells, call them grottoes, put an inch of lighted
candle into them at night, and vex the souls of pas-
sengers with iterated requests for halfpence, which,

238 OUT OF DOORS.

by some strange logic are supposed to be applied
towards the repairs of the grotto.

It would be a most injurious act to catch the
oysters during these months, as they are then engaged
in laying their eggs, if this strange operation can
deserve the name. If, for example, a barn-door hen,
instead of laying her eggs in her straw nest, were to
transfer them into her lungs, there to be hatched and
half fledged, we should be perplexed to find a name for
the proceeding. Yet this is just what is done with the
oyster. The eggs are very minute when first produced,
and are kept by the parent between the shell and the
gill membranes; where they remain until they are
furnished with shells of their own, and able to cope
with the watery world into which they are about to be
launched. I well recollect, when I was a very little
boy, bringing home some fresh-water mussels, and being
completely astonished at finding a number of the
tiniest little mussels floating in the liquid contained
in the shell. So, when an oyster is out of season, and
a thoughtless person ventures to eat it, he will find
that a number of little shells will have an unpleasant
grating effect upon his teeth, and will learn practically
the effect of the ' fence ' months.

It may be said that if the female oysters were per-
mitted to rest during the fence months, and the males
brought to table, we should still ensure our present
supply for the table without risking the future crops for
ensuing years. But there is a difficulty here. No one

TURKEY AND OYSTERS. 239

knows which are the females. They all lay eggs after
the queer fashion already mentioned, they all dismiss
abundance of young oysters from their shells, and no
one even knows how they do it. Hundreds of oysters
have been examined by our keenest anatomists, and
the only conclusion that they have decided upon is
that an oyster cannot be crossed in love because there
is no other sex to fall in love with, unless, Narcissus-
like, the creature should suffer from disappointed
affection for itself. In fact, the oyster carries out prac-
tically, with a trifling variation, the suggestion of the
well-known song, and the husband and the wife can
safely say that —

They are saved so much bother,
For they are both one another,
And not themselves at all.

And yet the oyster is a large-hearted being, though
with little brain, from which we might infer that its
affections were strong and its intelligence weak, did
not the previous observations prove there is no place
for love. As to intellect, the creature needs but little,
and has but little. It knows when to open and when
to shut its shell, which articles of food to accept and
which to reject, and considering the stationary life
which it leads, a solitary being among thousands, like
prisoners in close confinement and contiguous cells, it
has quite as much intellect as it requires.

Here I find I must pause. While describing the
oyster, its curious structures and habits, I recognise

240 OUT OF DOORS.

the same feeling which induces even abstemious men
to empty a barrel of natives under the plea of ' only
just one more.' The whole history and economy of
this mollusc is, to me at least, so full of interest that
I find myself saying, ' I will only mention just this one
point,' and now discover that my paper is well-nigh at an
end. Taking leave, therefore, of the individual oyster,
we will give a cursory glance to the life led by these
bivalves from the egg to the table. In their very
early stages we meet with the young oysters within
the shells of the parent, enveloped in a gelatinous sub-
stance, and partly nourished by the stream of sea- water,
which washes them as it is driven along by the fringed
edges of the gills. In this condition the young are
called the ' spat,' and are soon dismissed from the pro-
tecting shell. When set loose from the shell the
young molluscs attach themselves in vast quantities to
the objects on which they happen to fall, so that the
nature of the bed has great influence on the perennial
produce. When once fixed they increase rapidly in
size, attaining the size of a florin in their first twelve-
month, and are thought fit for the table when they
have completed their third year. The oysters brought
to market are mostly obtained by means of the dredge,
which scrapes along the bed of the sea, and tears the
molluscs from their attachments. This plan, however,
is rather a clumsy one, involving the destruction of many
young oysters, and being by no means a certain one.
Efforts are now being made in many places to learn

TURKEY AND OYSTERS. 241

the economy of this useful bivalve, and to breed it
regularly for market. During the last few years,
the practical knowledge of the oyster and its habits
has greatly increased, and vast artificial beds are being
laid for its accommodation throughout its life. Seve-
ral oyster-beds have already existed for many years,
some in England, and others on the Continent. At
Dieppe, for example — the only series of beds which I
have examined — the oysters are managed with great
care, being bred in a series of large shallow pools, and
fed regularly as if they were chickens. They are all
arranged in regular rows, slightly overlapping each
other, like the tiles of a house-top. The green oysters,
which are held in such favour, are nothing more than
the ordinary species, fed for a time in ponds where the
green confervoid growths are plentiful.

Without describing at length the various oyster
parks which are now being established, and which,
especially on the Continent, are assuming very impor-
tant dimensions, a few particulars of their structure
may be mentioned. Some of these parks are so exten-
sive that they are measured by miles, and are capable
of breeding many millions of oysters annually. It is
found that the best substance for the reception of the
spat is brushwood made into bundles, sunk under water
and kept down by stones. If these fascines be removed,
the young oysters are found clinging to them like grapes
upon the vine, and when they are full-grown their
aggregate weight is by no means trifling.

242 OUT OF DOORS.

This circumstance explains the travellers' tale so
long discredited, that in some places the oysters grew
on trees. It is now a well-known fact that if trees
growing near oyster-beds dip their branches into the
water, the young molluscs are sure to settle on the
immersed twigs, and by their increasing weight drag
the bough still deeper. The newly-sunken branches
are in their turn covered by fresh colonies, until at last
the bough is fairly loaded with its strange fruit.

As far as is yet known the experiments have
answered admirably, and it is sincerely to be hoped
that the ingenious projectors may make their fortunes
as they deserve. For it is no less meritorious to render
fertile mile after mile of barren coast, to produce in
countless myriads an esculent so nourishing and so
palatable as the oyster, than to perform the much-lauded
and laudable feat of making two blades of grass grow
where only one grew before. We hope soon to sow an
annual oyster crop as we now sow an annual crop of
grain, for the operation bids fair to be as easy in one
case as in the other, the hopes of success are equal, and
the profit, if anything, rather inclines to the mollusc
than to the cereal.

There are even pearls to be found in the common
oyster, though they are never large enough or pure
enough to be of any commercial value. I have many
specimens of such pearls all procured by myself, and it
is rather a curious fact that I have always found them
periodically. On one occasion, out of a poor half-

TURKEY AND OYSTERS. 243

dozen of oysters I procured as many pearls, most of
them about the size and shape of mustard seeds, but
one of a pear-like form, and nearly three times as large
as any of the others. We make no use of them in
Europe, but in some eastern countries all the little
bad-coloured pearls are burned and converted into a
very delicately pure lime, for the purpose of being
chewed together with the betel-nut.

I have already expressed my opinion that a con-
noisseur in oysters will only eat them pure and un-
adulterated, simply cooked in their own shells, or, more
simply, without any cooking at all. But as I cannot
expect all my readers to have the same refined taste, I
will here present them with a receipt whereby turkey
and oysters are brought into close and grateful conjunc-
tion.

Prepare the bird for boiling, open a number of
oysters, varying according to the size of the turkey, and
use them instead of stuffing. Put the stuffed bird into
a deep jar, fill it up with milk and the juice of the
oysters, and cover it over with flour paste. Boil it for
four or five hours, until thoroughly cooked, serve it up
very hot and with melted butter, and your guests will
for ever cherish a kindly remembrance of ' Turkey and
Oysters.'

R 2

244 OUT OF DOORS.

DE MONSTRIS.

HAVE any of my readers made themselves acquainted
with the ' Nurenberg Chronicle ' ? If not, they should
do so. The book is very pretty reading, though its
beauties are hard to see. It is a big book — an elephant
of a book — a book that would have delighted the very
soul of Dominie Sampson. It is printed in black
letter, the language is Latin, and its subject is a
chronicle of the world's history, from the time of the
creation to the date of the book. It is one of the
quaintest, raciest, and most delightful of books — not
very easy to read, but perhaps owing some of its charm
to that very fact.

It is a nut with a very hard and tough shell, but a
marvellously sweet and mellow kernel. The shell is
the language, or rather the mode in which that
language is placed before the reader. The Latinity of
the book is anything but Ciceronian, but it is couched
in bold, vigorous terms, interspersed occasionally with
strange words, which, on investigation, prove to be
German words Latinised, the writer being unable to
find any pure Latin equivalents. Punctuation seems

DE MONSTRIS. 245

to have been a matter of accident rather than of inten-
tion, and the printers have thought fit to employ every
form of abbreviation that has been invented for the
bewilderment of readers. Mostly they have had the
grace to add the abbreviatory line, so indicating that a
vowel or two, or the letters ' m ' and ' n,' are omitted,
and may be supplied at discretion ; so that the reader
can see without much difficulty that ' aid ' means anima.
In many cases, however, they have even dispensed with
this slight aid to the reader, and left him to conjecture
that ' sex mans hntes ' stands for sex manus habentes,
and that, throughout the book, 'hoies' signifies ho-
mines.

The eye, however, soon becomes accustomed to these
little abbreviations (which are wonderfully like the
dress of that period — cut very short just where one
might expect length), and can employ itself with
the chief glory of the book, namely, its illustrations.
These are really wonderful productions of ancient art,.
Wood engraving was then in its earliest infancy, and
the engraver could only produce hard, bold lines, of
nearly uniform thickness. Of perspective there was
little — of aerial perspective, none ; while the art of
* cross-hatching,' so easy on metal and so difficult on
wood, had only just been discovered. Yet, notwith-
standing all these difficulties, the illustrations possess,
like the letterpress, a wonderful amount of quaint,
stiff, homely power. The designs are attributed to
Wolgemuth ; but, whoever may have been the artist,

246 OUT OF DOORS.

there is no doubt that true art-power lay within him,
and that he did as much as could be done with the very
limited means at his command. They are worthy of a
city which produced such men as Durer, Bebem, Hele,
and Lobsinger, and are full of marvellous vigour,
4 cross-hatched ' here and there, but absolutely destitute
of grace, delicacy, softness, perspective, or expression.
There is not a face in the whole book which has the
least indication of human feeling or passion. If a
murder be represented, the murderer and his victim
are equally impassive of countenance ; so that if the
two heads were transposed the design would suffer no
injury. Facial expression was, in those days, beyond
the wood-engraver's powers, and scarcely anything
could be achieved except a hard, thick outline. Yet,
spite of these drawbacks — any one of which seems
capable of ruining an illustration — the vigorous power
of the woodcuts is deserving all praise. The lines are
hard and coarse, and the execution rough ; but, never-
theless, every line has its purpose, and tells its own
story, much unlike the inane prettiness produced by
the facile execution of our own day.

Like the letterpress, the woodcuts treat of the
world's chronicle; and by way of beginning at the
beginning, the first woodcut represents the Song of the
Morning Stars before the creation of the world. This
rather difficult subject is represented by a circular
space, quite blank, around which are tightly packed a
vast multitude of heads, each crowned, with a sort of

DE MONSTRIS. 247

tiara, and all having their mouths tightly shut, so that
if they are singing at all, they must be singing through
their noses. The creation of the world is ingeniously,
if simply, represented, by the disappearance of the
heads, and the appearance of successive concentric
circles within the open space, one circle being added
for each day.

The earth being made, and the fishes, birds, and
beasts duly placed in it, we come to a delightful
Garden of Eden, walled and castellated, and its arched
entrance guarded by a portcullis, through which
trickle four diverging gutters representing the four
rivers of Paradise. As for Adam, he is certainly not
handsome, but he is very far superior to the Adam
represented in the frontispiece of a Family Bible now
before me. Wolgemuth's Adam, rudely though he be
drawn, is at least represented as the first man might
have been ; whereas the modern Adam has had his hair
nicely cut, parted, and curled — has been shaved that
morning, and wears a pair of neatly shaped whiskers.
In fact, he looks as if he ought to wear clothes ; where-
as Wolgemuth's Adam looks as if clothing were no
more needed by him than by a Greek statue. Then we
have the creation of Eve, who is represented as being
pulled bodily out of a large circular hole in Adam's
side ; and so we proceed with the history of the world
until we come to the building of the ark.

This woodcut has a strange fascination for me, in
its mingled truth and absurdity, strength and weakness*

248 OUT OF BOOHS.

and the under-current of earnestness that runs through
the whole design. The ark is about half the size of a
Thames lighter, and, small as it is, the artist has par-
titioned it off with scrupulous fidelity into its various
compartments, and affixed to each division an explana-
tory label. There is an ' apotheca herboruinj1 and an
4 apotheca specierum.' The clean animals are separated
by the whole length of the vessel from the unclean
beasts, and in the middle is the * habitas hominurifij
about as large as a Skye terrier's kennel. All Noah's
sons are dressed in the exceedingly abbreviated jerkin,
the tight hose, and the pointed shoes of the period.
One of them is chopping vigorously at a prostrate
beam, making the splinters fly bravely ; another is
apparently splitting the skull of one of his brothers ;
while a third is seated on a raft, dubbing down with
his adze the sides of the ark, which is at least a hundred
yards distant from him. I have always thought that
Hogarth must have seen this wood-cut before he drew
his well-known ' Perspective.'

Then every place that is mentioned, whether it be
city, country, or continent, is illustrated by an engraving,
more remarkable for its ingenuity than its accuracy.
Why ' Provincia Britannia ' should be represented by
thirty or forty castellated towers, crushed together
within a circular wall, and let neatly into the sea, is a
mystery not easily to be penetrated. Supplying Nineveh
with a cathedral inside the walls, and a quintain out-
side them, is a venial error in chronology, as are the

DE MONSTRIS. 249

soldiers in plate armour by whom Abraham is accom-
panied, and the clock in the parish church of Damascus.

Then there is a charming audacity in the way in
which the same woodcut does duty for several subjects.
Take, for example, the two woodcuts which have just
been mentioned. Nineveh, which is figured in page
20, becomes Corinth in page 33. Then the same cut
which represents Damascus at an early period of the
History, becomes successively, Macedonia, Verona,
Ferraria, and the Province of Germany. The portraits
are just as versatile. There is one, for example, which
so irritated me by its persistent reappearance, that I
took the trouble to hunt it through the book. It re-
presents a close-shaven, wizen-faced, vulture-nosed,
under-jawed old gentleman, wearing a kind of fez cap,
and reading a book without looking at it. On page
59 he is Solon ; on page 80 he is Demetrius, and only
two pages further he is metamorphosed into Paretius.
On page 111 he is Suetonius, and on page 158 the
Venerable Bede. On page 200 he is St. Hugo (natione
Gallus}) on page 213 he does duty for Barnardus of
Compostello, doctor ; and on the very next page he is
labelled as Alexander, doctor irrefragabilis. Page 227
reveals him as ' Johannes de Monte Villa, eq. aur not
anglic ; ' and we finally take leave of him on page 240
as ' Johannes Grherson, cancellarius Parisiensis.'

I have already mentioned that facial expression is
absolutely wanting in these various portraits, so that,
judging by the expression of the countenance, no one

260 OUT OF DOORS.

can tell whether the face is that of a hero or coward, an
honest man or a thief, a saint or a scoundrel. The
artist, however, is at no loss for means by which to
indicate the moral condition of his subjects, especially
those of the female sex. Drapery invariably represents
piety, and moral excellence may be measured by the
amount of folds in which the various personages are
enveloped. Sanctity is always clad in flowing robes,
while a curtal frock is a sure sign of a guilty conscience.
Lot's wife, Mrs. Potiphar, and other doubtful or ob-
jectionable characters, are clothed in short and scanty
raiment ; while all the female saints (with the excep-
tion of Mary Magdalene, who wears nothing but her
own hair, and plenty of it) are endowed with trailing
skirts, proportionate in length and volume to the
sanctity of the wearer. The culmination of drapery,
however, is to be seen in the wonderful print represent-
ing the Adoration of the Magi. In this print the most
conspicuous object is the drapery with which the prin-
cipal figure is clad. Her mantle is large enough for
a tent, and all in waves, like a sea, over the foreground.
It is carefully gathered into a thousand angular folds,
as if made of the stiffest fabric, and has more than
enough material to clothe fully all the scantily-dressed
sinners in the book.

As may be imagined from the character of the
book, both author and artist revel in the various
monsters which were fully believed to inhabit the
world. Two whole pages are given up to these crea-

DE MOXSTRIS. 251

tions of the brain, and very odd beings they are. Some
are supplied with explanatory descriptions, but others
are left to the discrimination of the reader. Enor-
mous development of some part of the human body is
the usual method in which the various monsters assert
themselves. There are the Pannothi of Scythia, whose
ears are so large that they cover the shoulders. There
are men with enormous under lips, which fall over
their breasts. There are the Unipeds, men with only
one leg, but then the foot makes ample amends for the
absence of a second limb. It is about as large as an
ordinary umbrella, and is used for the same purpose —
the Unipeds being in the habit of lying on their backs,
and sheltering themselves from sun or rain by the
enormous foot. These men can of course only hop,
but they do so with such prodigious, celerity that they
chase and catch stags by hopping after them.

Sometimes the monsters enjoy a superfluity of
members. There are men with two heads, like the
Welsh giant who was ignominiously worsted by Tom
Thumb. There are men with four eyes, men with four
arms, and men with four legs, balanced by Monoculi,
or men who have only one eye — which is set in
the middle of the forehead— and men who wear no
particular head, but have their eyes, noses, and mouths
placed in their breasts.

Of course there are dwarfs, and a single combat
between a pigmy and a crane is drawn with some
vigour. The crane seems likely to get the better of the

252 OUT OF DOOE8.

pigmy, for his beak is long enough to spit the little
man through and through. Then come the monsters
of the composite order, i.e., which are made up of beast,
bird, and man. There is a very fine Centaur ; there is
a man with a human head perched at the end of an
ostrich's neck; and there is a man whose head is
adorned with a large pair of ibex horns — ' quales in
solitudine S. Antonius Abbas viditS Then there is a
nation of women who have beards flowing over their
breasts; and there is a whole nation of Hermaphro-
dites, of which remarkable beings the artist gives an
authentic portrait. The portrait represents a human
being, man on the right side and woman on the
left, divided accurately by a perpendicular line down
the middle of the body, much like the well-known
portrait of the Chevalier D'Eon, or the older and
wider known print of 'Death and the Lady.' The
head has a most absurd appearance, being furnished
with short hair and half a long beard on the right
side, while the left has a smooth face and long straight
hair. And after being gratified by the sight of these
wonderful beings, the reader is confidingly told that
there are yet many more monsters in the world — ' quos
commemorare perlongum est? There is an evident
good faith in all these queer drawings, and the equally
queer descriptions ; and it is quite delightful to read a
book in which these absurdities are gravely treated as
true.

On examination of the series of monsters, there is

DE MONSTRIS. 25*

one point which can hardly fail to strike anyone who
has some smattering of physiology, and has taken some
interest in ethnology. They are all very odd, not to
say ludicrous ; but there is very little invention about
them. Nothing is simpler than the notion of enlarging,
multiplying, or curtailing the various members of the
body ; so that the headless men, the two-headed men,
the one-eyed men, and many-eyed men, the six-handed
men, the big-footed men, the long-necked men, the large-
eared men, and the flap-lipped men, are all off-shoots
of a single idea. Then all the composite monsters are but
off-shoots of the one single idea of grafting parts of other
animals upon the human form, and there is really but
little invention required in carrying it out. You may
boldly join two bodies together, as the Centaur, the
harpy, and the mermaid ; or you may tack parts of one
body to another, as the satyr, with his goat's legs, the
faun, with his pointed ears and little tuft of a tail, or
the man with ibex horns on his head. Again, several
of these monsters are nothing but exaggerations of
actual fact. It has long been suspected that the
ancients knew more of the world than has generally
been supposed, and this idea is strengthened by ex-
amining the monsters of the Nurenberg Chronicle.
Take, for example, the men with the enormous under-
lip. It is highly probable that the idea was taken
from the narration of some traveller, who had seen one
of the many savage tribes which distend their lips,
either upper or lower, by the insertion of circular
pieces of wood in them. The long-eared men can be

254 OUT OF DOOES.

accounted for in a similar manner. All ethnologists
know that there are many tribes which measure their
gentility by the length of their ears ; and by cutting
holes in their lobes, and hanging weights to them, suc-
ceed at last in getting them to hang down on the
shoulders, just as is represented in the Pannothi. As
to the nation of pigmies, we all know of several tribes
or nations that may very fairly be called by that name ;
and although they are not so very small as is repre-
sented in the woodcut, they are yet so small that when
standing by the side of an European of middle stature
the grown men and women seem scarcely bigger than
our children of nine or ten. The many-armed monster
is evidently borrowed from the Indian temples, which
are covered with statues of various deities, scarcely any
of which condescend to have less than eight arms.
The two-headed monster is due to the same source.

There is another point which is worthy of notice.
Putting aside the centaur, harpy, and mermaid, there
is scarcely any of these monsters which is not a real
fact. Take, for example, the horned man. Such
beings really have existed, as is well known to physio-
logists. There is now in the museum at Oxford a
portrait of a woman who was remarkable for possessing
several horns on her head, and by the portrait is de-
posited one of the horns in question. After all, there
is nothing so very much out of the way in this curious
development. For all the hollow horns, such as were
these, are nothing but modifications of hair, and it is

DE MONSTRIS. 266

not an uncommon phenomenon to find a different mode
of development of the same material. In the museum
of the late and regretted Mr. Waterton there is the
head of a sheep, with a horn growing at the end of its
ear, and not on its forehead — the hair having been
modified into horn, just as was the case with the horned
woman. The feathers of birds frequently undergo a
similar modification; and there is a well-known in-
stance of a whole family of human beings — popularly
called the ' Porcupine Family ' — many of whom had
the whole body covered with small horny growths.

Then the two-headed man is evidently a reminis-
cence of one of the many known instances where twins
have been partially fused together. In the present
day we« have the long-known ' Siamese Twins,' the
' Two-headed Nightingale,' and the < Ohio Twins,' the
latter being united from the back of the head down
the entire spine. Plenty of similar instances have been
known. There were, for example, the 'Biddenden
Maids,' whose memory is still cherished in the neigh-
bourhood where they lived ; and I have before me a
collection of drawings illustrative of similar strange
developments.

So with various other forms. The headless man
only represents a fact well known to every physiologist ;
while the very bold stroke of the artist in putting the
eyes, nose, and mouth into the breast, is not without
its parallel in nature. Multiplication or curtailment
of limbs is very common, and often runs in families ;

256 OUT OF DOORS.

so that the artist of the Nurenberg Chronicle really
needed no great power of invention in many of his
representations. As for * women with beards descend-
ing on their breasts,' there is nothing very remarkable
about them, and plenty of instances have been known.
Perhaps some of my readers may have seen the late
* bearded lady,' Julia Pastrana, whose preternatural
ugliness, quick intelligence, proficiency in modern
languages, and agility in dancing, were, some years
ago, quite familiar to the British public. Her beard,
though it did not quite descend to her breast, was
stiffer, thicker, and longer than that of many a man ;
and yet her hair, a lock of which lies before me, was
not coarser than that of an ordinary Spanish woman.
And there was a lady, very well known in a certain
cathedral city a few years ago, who possessed a mous-
tache as thick and full as that of a life-guardsman, and
a beard of very fair dimensions.

Bearded women naturally lead us to the hermaphro-
dites above-mentioned. I fancy that the idea was
originally taken from travellers' accounts of certain
divisions of the Malay race, in which the two sexes can
scarcely be distinguished from each other, except by
the fact that the women look much more masculine
than the men. Naturalists all know that, although
among the human race such a man-woman has never
been known, there are many creatures in which such a
phenomenon does take place. There is, for example,
scarcely any large collection of insects, whether public

DE MONSTRIS. 267

or private, which does not contain specimens of insects
— generally butterflies — which are male on one side
and female on the other : the division being along the
centre of the body, exactly as is represented in the en-
graving of the Nurenberg Chronicle.

Indeed, in actual nature are to be found almost
every instance of monstrosity which the mediaeval mind
could invent, and plenty besides, which would throw
these mediaeval monsters entirely into the shade. For
example, the Monoculi, or one-eyed men, are repre-
sented by a wonderful number of the tiny Crustacea
called Entomostraca, many of which are remarkable
for having a single eye placed in the midst of that
part of the body which does duty for a head, and which
are in consequence called by the appropriate names of
Cyclops, Polyphemus, and so on. As to the many-
eyed men, they are entirely outdone by the insects,
some of which have more than thirty thousand eyes — a
fact which infinitely exceeds the imagination of the old
writers or artists. The men with their faces in their
breasts are represented by the crabs, lobsters, shrimps,
and their kin, all of which have their mouths set
exactly in the situation in which the old artist has
placed the mouth of his headless man.

Then the unipeds are far outdone by many of the
molluscs, whose structure may be characterised as a large
foot, carrying a comparatively small body on it. In
the Nurenberg Chronicle the uniped is figured as
using his foot as an umbrella ; but neither artist nor

s

258 OUT OF DOORS.

author would have dared to describe him as using
it in the light of a boat. Yet this is actually done
by many river snails, whole fleets of which may be seen
floating leisurely down the stream, the large foot being
hollowed along the centre, and acting as a boat. There
is no need to multiply instances, but we may receive it
as an axiom that there exist in nature monsters far
more wonderful than any exaggeration or combination
that has been invented by man.

I cannot leave the subject of monsters without a
short reference to the Japanese ' mermaids,' which are
now and then brought before the public. These are
nearly all made to represent the conventional idea of
mermaids, except that the upper half is formed in
semblance of a monkey, and not of a human being.
They are quite common, and are manufactured by
dozens, most of the makers adhering to the same type,
only one or two striking out original ideas of their
own. I have seen one specimen in which the maker
had the audacity to add a pair of large wings formed
like those of the bat.

They are well made, but not so well as is generally
thought. The late Mr. Waterton, whose skill in taxi-
dermy was supreme, had an entire contempt for Japa-
nese mermaids, which he stigmatised as clumsy fabri-
cations, saying that he could make better work with
his left hand. Certainly the amusing monstrosities
which he made, and with which he delighted to delude
visitors to his collection, were much superior to the

DE MONSTRIS. 259

best Japanese mermaid that I have seen. Some years
ago, a fishmonger in the old Hungerford market showed
me one of these mermaids, and was quite angry with
me when I praised the excellence of its manufacture.
He really believed that it was a genuine inhabitant of
the water, framing his belief on the fact that there was
no junction between the fish and the * maid.' Neither
was there. The Japanese taxidermist knew his busi-
ness too well to have any junction at all, the seeming
skin being nothing but papier mache, worked over
a model, and having fins, scales, teeth, and nails in-
serted in the proper places.

82

260 OUT OF DOORS

OUR RIVER HARVESTS*

MAN can endure many things. Incredible as the asser-
tion may appear, civilised man is capable of maintain-
ing existence, though deprived of a town and country
house, a box at the opera, three or four gigantic foot-
men, and a velvet-footed valet. Follow him down-
wards through all the phases of terrestrial conditions,
and under all varieties of climate, and you shall find
him by degrees casting off one garment after another,
and one want after another, until the primitive savage
stands before you, wholly without clothing, and almost
without wants.

He needs no tailor to shelter him from the cold,
for his body is ' all face ; ' and in particularly severe
weather he clothes himself by the simple process of
stripping the skin off some newly-slain animal and
flinging it over his shoulders. He needs no architect
nor builder, no carpenter and no plumber to aid him in
erecting his house ; for the cleft of a rock, or a hole

1 The following article, which was written in 1862, is here given in
order to show the science of Fish-hatching as it was in its earliest
infancy. Many improvements have been made, and several of the
abuses which are mentioned have been corrected.

OUR RIVER HARVESTS. 261

mdely scraped in a bank, is all the home that hk
imagination can conceive or his needs require.

But however widely different may be the polished
exquisite of London society, and the rude savage of the
antipodes, they both agree in one absolute want—

HATCHEKQ-TUOUGHS IX GREEXH00SES.

namely, that they must eat or die ; and if we trace
effects to their causes, we shall find that our lamented
friend Soyer was not very far wrong in considering the
culinary art to be the mother of civilisation.

As with individuals, so with nations, which, after

262 OUT OF DOORS.

all, are but the aggregates of individuals. As a general
rule, a hungry man becomes uncivilised in proportion
to his hunger, and his diminished powers of argument
are proverbial. Even the compulsory postponement of
dinner for an hour or two has a mightily injurious effect
on the best-tempered of Britons ; and it may easily be
imagined that in the primitive ages of society, where
no one ever has any dinner, and is always waiting for
his food, the general character will be wolfish, snappish,
tetchy, and selfish. Food and civilisation are connected
together by indissoluble bonds, and the first necessity
of a civilised country is that its food shall be plentiful
in quantity, good in quality, and readily procurable, so
as to insure the periodical recurrence of nutritious
meals.

There can be no true civilisation where every man has
to hunt for, kill, carry home, and cook his meals, inas-
much as he thereby lowers himself to the grade of a
mere animal of chase, and is forced to give up all his
finer faculties to the one task of seeking and eating his
prey.

The prosperity of every country depends chiefly
upon its supply of food, and a nation advances and re-
cedes exactly in proportion to the quantity and cheap-
ness of provisions.

It is true that the present state of commerce enables
nations to interchange their commodities, and to supply
the non-harvesting lands with the food which they need
but cannot raise. But there are many turns in the

OUR RIVXX HARVESTS. 2t>3

wheel of fortune which may cut off the supply, and
which might deprive one nation of food just as another
nation is deprived of cotton. Beyond all, value, there-
fore, is the power of being independent with regard to
food ; and the nation which can discover a fresh
indigenous supply has made no small step in her
prosperity.

We have long ago realised the value of the land as
a food producer. The ancient forests are falling before
the enclosure acts, like grass before the mower's scythe ;
the wide commons are gradually changing into meadows
and farm-yards ; and their gold-blossomed furze bushes
and purple heather are forced to make way for the less
picturesque, but more valuable, corn and turnips ; and
even the very banks of railway cuttings are economised
by thrifty workmen, and yield their crops to the strong
hand and skilful brain. Chemical agriculture has now
advanced to the rank of an acknowledged science, and
the most unpromising soil is rendered fertile by the
judicious addition of certain elements which the desired
crop demands, but which the ground does not possess.

We have partially realised the value of the sea
which surrounds our island, and have learned that the
edible treasures of the ocean are priceless as inexhaustible.
Let the fisheries of herring, sprat, flat fish, cod, mackerel,
and pilchard be destroyed, and the shock to English
prosperity would be severe as the shattered credit of a
bank to a trader who has entrusted a great part of hia
capital to its keeping.

264 OUT OF DOORS,

We have still, however, another source of national
greatness — a very gold mine of wealth — requiring little
outlay and less trouble. Our rivers bring riches to our
very feet ; and the golden sands of the Pactolus may be
outshone in true value by the pebbly gravel, stony
rocks, or shadowy banks of our English streams. The
treasures of California and Australia lay hidden in the
rocks and sands for ages, trodden under foot by the
heedless and ignorant, and only revealing themselves to
those who would work and think. In like manner the
treasures of our own streams sweep daily past our un-
suspecting eyes, and will be given only to those who
will take the trouble to learn about them and search
for them.

It is but lately that we have begun to think that
good fish are really valuable articles, and to discover
that the supply is annually decreasing. For this dis-
covery we are chiefly indebted to sportsmen, whose
observant habits and watchful acuteness are invaluable
aids to the cause of which we are about to treat. And,
although in the few pages which can be given to an
important subject we shall treat of the rivers and their
living treasures without any reference to mere sporting
interests, the reader will of course understand that the
interests of the nation and the sportsman are identical,
and that, in speaking of the one, we necessarily include
the other.

For the last few years our river fisheries have been
failing. There is no doubt of it. The sporting papers

OUR RIVER HARVESTS. 265

are full of complaints respecting the decrease in size
and quality of the river fish, those of the salmon tribe
being most conspicuous in this respect. The complaints
have waxed louder and more frequent, until they have
ceased to belong to the mere sportsman, have found
their way into the general press, and become a question
belonging to the nation at large. Even the leviathan
of the press has more than once taken up the subject,
and drawn the public attention to the dismal fact.

It is no light matter that all the best fish should be
gradually extirpated from our rivers ; and the decreasing
numbers of the salmon alone afford grounds for just
fears. The salmon ought to be as cheap as the herring,
if not actually cheaper. It needs not to be brought
from the sea at a vast expense of fishing-boats, nets, and
all kinds of auxiliary apparatus, but, if properly managed,
will bring itself to many an inland town, and need only
the trouble of catching.

There never was a more obliging creature than the
salmon. It will provide for itself entirely. It wants no
shepherd, no hurdles, no folds, and no food. Its habits are
regular as clockwork. Given the young salmon, and you
will know exactly where he is, and what he is doing, on
any day of the year. He grows out of his baby-clothes
in the river, never stirring very far from his cradle ; and
then somewhere about his second May he puts on his
first suit of silvery scales, and makes for the ocean. He
remains in the sea for a certain period, feeding vora-
ciously on the rich banquet which the salt waters pro-

266 OUT OF DOORS.

duce ; he gets himself into admirable condition, becomes
as fat as a pig and as firm as a turkey ; and when he is
quite fit to be eaten, back he swims to his native river,
and comes to be killed with the proverbial docility of
Mrs. Bond's ducks, weighing as many pounds on his
return as he weighed ounces on his departure.

His flesh is very digestible, wonderfully nutritious,
more so indeed than that of most fish, and its only fault
is its luscious richness. It can be eaten fresh, pickled,
or dried ; and in the last-mentioned case can be pre-
served for years in perfectly good condition. And, as
the salmon feeds himself, the cost of his maintenance is
nil, and the only expenses connected with the culture
of this noble fish are the salaries which must be paid to
the water police.

The salmon ought never to have occupied the posi-
tion which it now holds, namely, a dainty upon the
tables of the affluent. The poor man ought to have his
salmon as well as the rich ; and if the newly-born
science of pisciculture should prosper, a few years will
see the labourer or the mechanic purchasing his salmon
as freely as he now purchases his herring or periwinkles.
There was once a time when this splendid fish was so
plentiful in the British rivers that apprentices were
accustomed to stipulate with their masters not to be fed
on salmon more than four days in the week ; and though
we cannot hope to restore the fish in such plenty as is
indicated by that arrangement, there is every hope of
bringing them back to the rivers which they have

OUR RIVER HARVESTS. 267

deserted, and retaining them in those out of which they
are now rapidly disappearing.

The first step is evidently to find out the causes
which drive them out of our streams, and try to rectify
them ; for it is clear that to stock a river with salmon
would be an useless expenditure of time and trouble,
when every fish is sure to be killed before it is as big
as a sprat.

Perhaps there is no fish so systematically persecuted
as the salmon; and when all the circumstances are
reviewed, it is really a wonder that a single salmon ever
attains its full size. From the time when the unhatched
egg is deposited in the river, to the time when the fish
returns to fulfil its great office, every yard of water
contains a foe, and every mile of river conceals a trap.
The eggs are surreptitiously taken by poaching anglers,
and used as bait for other fishes, and the young fry
when hatched, and just able to move, are gobbled up
in thousands by various finny depredators and water fowl
of different kinds.

But, putting aside these natural enemies, which,
after all, only preserve the due balance of nature, the
artificial impediments with which the fish meet are
numerous and fatal to a degree. These impediments
may be divided into two classes — the fixed and the
moveable. The latter term includes spears, or leisters —
terrible instruments, like Neptune's trident, on whose
barbed prongs the salmon is impaled as it lies on the
bed of the river — and nets of all kinds, ingeniously

268 OUT OF DOORS.

made so as to sweep the whole breadth of the stream,
and to entangle even fishes of a few inches in length.

As to the fixed impediments, their name and struc-
ture is legion. ' Weirs,' or barriers, are made of timber,
or even faggots, and so constructed as to intercept
almost every fish as it tries to make its way along the
stream. ' A Devonshire faggot weir,' writes a corres-
pondent of the ' Field ' newspaper, ' for thorough im-
passability, in some ninety-five days out of every
hundred, almost baffles description : extending the
whole breadth of the river, staked, ruddled, stumped,
and twisted, leaving out long bushy ends down stream,
partially filled up with large stones, often some ten
or fifteen feet wide at the top — is so admirably con-
structed for stopping even a minnow, that the whole
stream drains and percolates through this mass of
bushes. In many places a London lady could, with
little trouble, walk over dry shod.' The same writer,
after dilating on the many impediments placed in the
way of these migratory fish, proceeds to remark that in
hot weather, and after a dry spring, the young salmon
perish in vast quantities while trying to force their way
through the mazes of the brushwood, and taint the air
around with their decaying bodies.

Water-mills are notoriously employed for the illegal
capture and destruction of the salmon, both in its early
stages and during the fence months ; and the destruc-
tion of ' foul ' fish, as they are then called, is almost
beyond belief.

OUR RIVER HARVESTS. 269

It is true that the fish when foul acquire a peculiarly
unpleasant taste, the flesh loses all its firmness, becomes
loose and flabby, and gives forth a very unpleasant
odour. A Scotch peasant will have nothing to do with
the foul fish, as far as eating it goes ; but the French
have an idea that it is a great dainty, and accordingly
pay high prices for the worthless article. The natural
consequence is that many tons weight of foul salmon
are illegally captured and sent to France, where they
appear on the tables of the bons vivants, and are lauded
to the skies by the guests, their chief value consisting
in the fact that they are brought all the way over the
sea, and cost much money.

It is true that a penalty is attached to the act
of killing foul or unseasonable fish, and now that an
Act on the subject has passed through Parliament, the
fish may stand a better chance of attaining their full
growth. But it is useless to affix a small or even a
moderate penalty to the transgression of this law, as its
infraction is so profitable that the offender will com-
pound for a dozen detections, provided that he succeeds
once in capturing and selling the illegal booty. If a
man can make between three and four hundred pounds
by one capture, he cares little for a few fines of a pound
or two each.

Mutual jealousies of neighbouring proprietors cause
the destruction of young salmon in vast quantities, each
owner being anxious to secure the fish while he has the
chance of doing so, and being unwilling to allow his

270 OUT OF DOORS.

neighbour the benefit of the fish which pass through hig
waters. Each goes upon the argument that if he, Mr.
A., does not catch the young salmon, Mr. B. or Mr. C.
will be sure to do so, and as the little fish are better
eating than trout, he may as well obtain the benefit of
them while he can. It will be seen, therefore, that
supposing the stream to belong to twenty proprietors,
and that nineteen of them agree to permit the salmon
a free passage through their domains, the recalcitrant
twentieth may neutralise all their efforts, and, by fixing
weirs and using nets, may intercept every fish as it
passes.

There is another reason why the salmon is driven
away from many rivers in which it was formerly plen-
tiful, namely, the polluted state of the water. The
Thames enjoys an unenviable pre-eminence in foulness ;
and though the last two or three years have seen a
slight improvement in its condition, it is quite im-
possible to predict that a recurrence of the pestilential
odours of 1857—8 may not happen in any summer.
Even the famed waters of Marseilles harbour, which
are said to be extremely valuable to mariners because
they kill even the barnacles that adhere to ships, and
the molluscs that bore into timber, can hardly be more
detestable than the once silver Thames on one of its bad
days. No fish can be expected to live under such
horrid conditions ; and though a salmon will endure
much in its instinctive desire to ascend the stream, it
cannot pass through such a torrible element in safety.

OUR RIVER HARVESTS. 271

There are, it is true, some rivers where the water is
quite as nauseous as that of the Thames, which are yet
ascended by the salmon. But in these cases the
extent of foul water is comparatively small, and the fish
is enabled to pass through it at a single run, whereas
the length of polluted water in the Thames is so great
that the salmon would be forced to endure a day or two
of foul water before it could gain the comparatively
sweet waters of the upper river.

Eecent improvements in the drainage may, how-
ever, have a beneficial effect upon the Thames ; and if
the waters can be rendered sweet enough for the salmon
to live in, and kept clear of nets and weirs, we may
look forward with some hope of success to the reappear-
ance of this noble fish in our noble river.

Now let us glance at the means by which it is hoped
to restore the salmon and other fish to the waters
whence they have been extirpated.

The early life of all fish is most precarious, and
from the time that the eggs are first deposited in the
river to the time when the little creature is sufficiently
strong of fin to take care of itself, a host of enemies
surround it, and its chance of life is scarcely more
promising than that of a tender little lamb among a
flock of wolves. "What with creatures that eat the
spawn, creatures that devour the fry, and infernal
engines that destroy the growing fish, not one-hundredth
part attain even to their white smolt robes, and not a
thousandth part reach maturity.

272 OUT OF DOORS.

Many persons, even those who themselves have taken
an interest in the advancement of this new science,
have an idea that the object of a pisciculturist is similar
to that of a game preserver, namely, to furnish anglers
with sport in rivers whence the fish had been driven, or
in which they had never taken up their abode. It will,
however, be shown, in the course of the following
pages, that the question is one of national importance,
involving the supply of food to the masses, and not in-
tended only to furnish amusement to the few.

The first point in the rearing of fish is evidently to
shield the eggs and fry from all their preliminary
danger, and to keep them in some place of safety until
they are strong enough to take care of themselves.
The only method of accomplishing this purpose is
evidently that the place where the little creatures pass
through their first stages of development shall be
either wholly separated from the river, or so carefully
fenced off by close wires, that the predatory fish
and other foes shall not be able to gain admission.

Several modes of isolation have been invented and
worked with success; and the public are already
familiar with the names of Stormontfield and other
places where the breeding of fish has been tried. It is
not needful, however, to go so far from home for such
experiments, as an establishment which has lately been
mentioned in many of the daily papers is in full
operation near the banks of the Thames, under the
superintendence of S. Ponder, Esq., of Hampton, who

OUR RIVER HARVESTS. 273

has erected and still maintains the greater part at his
own expense. This, although on a small ^ale, is
marvellously successful, and is capable of producing
nearly one hundred thousand fish annually.

The process is as follows : —

Within a moderately-sized green-house have been
erected a series of troughs formed of slate, and
arranged one above the other like so many stairs. Each
trough is three feet in length, seven inches in width,
and five in depth. It is found, however, that the
depth need not exceed four inches. In these troughs
is placed a layer of moderately fine gravel, about two
inches in depth, and larger stones are stuck into the
gravel at intervals of an inch or two. The gravel and
stones have been previously boiled and washed, in order
to destroy all traces of decaying animal matter which
might taint the water, all aquatic creatures which
might injure the eggs or fry, and all confervoid
growths which might choke up the stream and inter-
fere with the wellbeing of the young fishes.

Above these troughs is placed a large tank holding
about two hundred gallons of water, which is conducted
to the upper trough by means of a pipe and stopcock.
At alternate ends of each trough is placed a short pipe,
which conveys the water from one to the other, and in
consequence of their alternate arrangement compels the
water to traverse the entire surface of the gravel.

The eggs are carefully laid upon the gravel so as to
lodge in its interstices, each trough containing three

T

274

OUT OF DOORS.

thousand ova. As, therefore, the percentage of un-
hatched eggs is extremely trifling when they are in
proper condition, this single set of troughs can turn out
about thirty thousand young fish at a single hatching.

HATCHING-PLATE.

An experiment has been successfully tried to sub-
stitute slabs of slate for the gravel, the plates being
exactly one foot long and seven inches wide, so that
three will precisely fit into each trough. The plates

EGG, FRY, AND PARR.

are covered with cup-like hollows, much resembling the
little pits in a ' solitaire ' board : a small hole is pierced
quite through the centre of each, so as to permit water
to pass freely. Each plate contains one thousand of

OUR RIVER HARVESTS. 275

these cups, and each is intended to hold one egg, so
that the tedious process of counting the ova is no longer
required.

When the eggs are properly arranged the water is
permitted to flow very gently over them, and its force
is gradually increased until it imitates as nearly as
possible the shallow rippling part of the stream where
the fish generally lays its eggs, and the motion of which
seems to be essential to the hatching of the egg. The
stream is about one inch in depth.

One great advantage of this plan is that the eggs
and young are always kept in view, and are at a con-
venient height from the ground, so that they can be
watched with a lens through the crystalline water, and
their changes noted from day to day.

Another establishment is placed in the open air, not
very far from the banks of the Thames. This consists
of a series of flat troughs made of elm, and measuring
four feet in length, fifteen inches in width, and eight in
depth. These troughs or boxes are furnished with
gravel and stones, as has already been mentioned ; they
are set end to end, and water flows continually through
them from a little spring which has been ingeniously
diverted in the proper direction.

The eggs are placed in the upper boxes, covered
with coarse gravel, and the water suffered to flow
gently over them until they are hatched, an event
which usually takes place in sixty or seventy days. The
temperature of the ' water has, however, much to do

T 2

276

OUT OF DOORS.

with the time occupied in hatching. In this establish-
ment, where the water is kept at a tolerably uniform
temperature of 45° Fahr., the commencement of the
process is visible in fifty-five days, the action of the heart

OPEN-AIR TROUGHS,

being perceptible even to the naked eye, and a sin-
gularly beautiful object under the microscope.

When first hatched the young fish is a most
curious little object, having a thin, long, transparent
body, hardly visible when immersed, and bearing the

OUR RIVER HARVESTS. 277

yolk of the egg attached to its abdomen. This egg
vesicle is of a bright reddish orange colour, traversed
by the minutest imaginable vessels of bright scarlet, and
remains visible for about seven weeks. As long as the
little creature retains this vesicle it needs no food,
and takes no trouble about feeding until it has lived
for seven or eight weeks, when the supporting vesicle
is absorbed into the body, and the fish is then thrown
on its own energies for subsistence.

Now comes a critical time in the life of a fish, and
one where many pisciculturists have failed. What is
the little creature to eat, and how is it to obtain its
food ? Liver, dried and reduced to powder, is held in
some estimation, and so are little worms and caddis
chopped very fine. Stale bread grated into a fine pow-
der is another useful kind of food. But it often hap-
pens that the little fishes are so delighted with the un-
accustomed gratification that they continue to gorge
themselves until they die of very repletion. Some-
times the pisciculturist who has succeeded in hatching
the eggs under cover forgets that his little favourites
must needs eat, furnishes them with no food, and so lets
them perish of slow starvation after the supporting
vesicle has been completely absorbed.

Practically it has been found that the combination
of the slate troughs within the house, and the wooden
boxes in the open air, afford the best chance of
success, the young fish being removed from the former
to the latter after they have assumed the perfect shape

278 OUT OF DOORS.

and begin to feel the want of food. This food they will
then find for themselves. The sharp-eyed little
creatures can see and capture the myriad tiny inhabi-
tants of the water which are too minute to be detected
by the human eye, and when they get a little stronger
may be seen jumping at midges with wonderful bold-
ness and activity.

Their peculiar habits are a sufficient guide to their
owner as to the time when they are fit to enter the
river and be turned loose on existence, for they drop
down from box to box according to their development,
and those that are found in the lowest box are always
strong enough to be removed.

It should be mentioned that gratings of perforated
zinc form an impassable obstacle to the escape of the
young fish or the entrance of obnoxious intruders, while
covers of the same substance are fastened over them at
night, and are replaced in the daytime by strong
netting. The object of this change is twofold : firstly,
that the midges and other little insects on which the
fish feed should have free admission to the surface of
the water ; and, secondly, that the inmates should be
guarded from various predatory birds, kingfishers
especially, who would hold high revel over so plentiful
and delicate a banquet.

When the fry have attained a moderate size they
are removed from the lowest box, placed in a proper
water vessel, and transferred to a boat. The owner
rows gently about the river, and wherever he sees a

OUR RIVER HARVESTS, 279

favourable-looking spot he puts a hundred or so young
fish into the water. No sooner are they in the river
than they act as freely and boldly as if they had passed
all their little lives in its stream, dive down at once,
and ensconce themselves among the pebbles. This
instinct is most valuable, as the fish know by its
wondrous power how to separate from each other, and
take up their abode in little nooks and crannies, where
not even the voracious perch can get at them — at all
events, not without an expenditure of labour which that
fish is not at all likely to employ.

The plan of putting them into the river in little
detachments is followed because it is found that when-
ever the little fish are thrown into the water wholesale,
the larger river fish make a great feast on their little
visitors, charge fiercely at the crowd, and more than
decimate .their ranks before they can conceal them-
selves, their very numbers preventing them from find-
ing the shelter which their instinct urges them to
seek.

They are very pretty, these little fish, and even in
their very young days possess sufficient individuality to
mark each species. The young salmon fry, for example,
are rather long and slender in proportion to their
width, and their hue is ruddy brown, barred with dark
patches on the sides. The young trout are shorter,
thick and dark, and the barred surface is perfectly
conspicuous even when the little creatures do not
measure one inch in length. The char are light grey

280 OUT OF DOOES.

above and silvery white beneath, and have a peculiar
darting action, flashing through the water like a
miniature rocket, and j ust turning on the side so as to
suffer a silvery gleam to appear for a moment and then
vanish.

The eggs are delicate globular bodies, varying in
size according to the species of fish from which they
come. Those of the salmon are about the size of sweet
peas, and the perfect, healthy, and vivified egg has a
peculiar translucency, with pink or ruddy reflections as
the light passes through its substance.

As the eggs approach maturity the blood-red hue
deepens, and when the little fish makes its escape from
the imprisoning envelope the egg vesicle retains its
warm hue. Indeed, it is only by this vesicle that the
presence of the very young fish can be detected as they
lie among the stones, the delicate bodies being of such
glassy transparency that they would escape observation
but for the ruddy hue of the egg vesicle which is
attached to them.

Should the egg be unfortunate, and its vital prin-
ciple escape, the fatal result may be at once known by
the change of aspect, a gradually increasing opacity
spreading through the whole substance and the egg
looking exactly like a boy's ' alley taw ' seen through
the wrong end of a telescope. By degrees a kind of
flocculent excrescence begins to grow upon the egg, and
it is soon surrounded with this growth to such an
extent that it becomes as large as a moderately-sized

OUR RIVER HARVESTS. 281

gooseberry. All such eggs must be removed from the
water, or they would otherwise taint its purity ; and as
the increased bulk renders them lighter than the
element in which they lie, they float to the surface and
are readily detected.

Whether the eggs are hatched sooner in the arti-
ficially made gravel beds of the troughs than in the
natural gravel of the river is not very clear, but it is
certain that even in the open-air boxes, where all con-
ditions are apparently identical, the salmon eggs are
hatched in little more than half the time which the
generality of books mention as necessary for that opera-
tion. It is hardly needful to say that the rapidity of
hatching is an important element in pisciculture, and
that the breeding apparatus is rendered more valuable
in proportion to the number of hatchings of different
fish it can turn out in a season. After each hatching it
is as well to remove the gravel, wash the troughs
thoroughly, and not to replace the stones and gravel
until they have again been submitted to the ordeal of
boiling water.

The question of mixed or hybrid breeds is now
attracting considerable attention, and many thoughtful
inquirers are endeavouring to produce mixed breeds of
fish just as enterprising agriculturists produce breeds of
cattle. It seems to have been tolerably well proved
that with trout the surest method of obtaining the
heaviest and finest fish is to introduce continual addi-
tions of new blood into the establishment, so that the

282 OUT OF DOORS.

dwindling process which generally happens when the
' in and in ' system is adopted may be obviated, and a
fine and healthy offspring be the result.

Some experimentalists have mooted another ques-
tion, namely, the possibility of crossing the salmon with
some other fish, so that the offspring may retain the
size, flavour, and beauty of the salmon, while the
migrating instinct may be eradicated. I do not think,
however, that any such attempt can be successful. In
all the history of cross breeding the results prove that
it is always possible to introduce an instinct, but that
to eradicate one is a task almost if not quite impossible..
The outward form may be alterable to any extent, but
the inward character will remain.

In the greyhound, for example, when the breed was
found to gain speed at the expense of courage and
endurance, relinquishing the quarry at the first check,
a cross of the bulldog was introduced. In a few gene-
rations the clumsy head and short limbs of the bulldog"
were eradicated, but the indomitable courage and tire-
less perseverance have remained, and the result is the
present breed of greyhounds, which will not only run
like the wind, but are marvellously enduring, and when
they have once been set on the track will continue the
chase until they drop from fatigue, or even die on the
spot. Taking these and other similar examples into
consideration, I cannot but think that the result of
crossing the migratory salmon with some stationary
species would have precisely the opposite effect to the

OUR RIVER HARVESTS. 283

intentions of the pisciculturist, and that, instead of
making the migrator stay at home, the cross would only
send the non-migrator off to sea.

Moreover, to obtain a hybrid by means of crossing
two distinct species of fish is a very different business
from getting a mixed breed of varieties belonging to
the same species of cattle. And although it is true
that even in the wide seas specimens are now and then
caught which possess the characteristics of two separate
species in such equal proportions that they cannot be
referred with certainty to either, yet these exceptional
cases prove little but a fact already known ; and though
they show that hybrid or mule fishes can be obtained,
they fail to demonstrate any advantages to be gained
by them.

We have said nothing as yet with respect to the
means by which the eggs are obtained by the piscicul-
turist. It is, of course, necessary to be perfectly sure
of their genuineness, and the only method by which
this question can be decided with absolute certainty is
to procure them from the parent fish.

Nothing is simpler than this process. At the
spawning time, just when she is about to deposit her
eggs, the female fish is put into a tub with water, and
by a little artificial aid the whole of the eggs, or ' hard
roe,' are soon laid in the tub. The fish is then released,
and suffered to return to her native river. A male fish
of the same species is then put into the same vessel, and
some of the milt, or ' soft roe,' is deposited in a similar

284 OUT OF DOOMS.

manner. He is then set at liberty, and the water
stirred about for a few minutes, when it becomes cloudy,
as if milk had been poured in it, but soon regains its
former clearness. The eggs are then rinsed with fresh
water, and are fit to be put into the trough.

Indeed, the whole process of hatching the fish is so
simple and easy that it may be achieved with a flower-
pot and a watering-can, and conducted on a drawing-
room table. Anyone can do it, and it is really so
elegant and interesting a process that it may possibly
become as fashionable as the ferneries and aquaria of
the present day.

Vivified eggs can now be readily procured from
many parts of England and some portions of the Con-
tinent. For the little establishment already mentioned
the eggs of trout have been brought from the Teste and
Bourne in Hampshire, from the Colne in Herts, and the
Wandle in Surrey. Salmon ova have been obtained
from several parts of Ireland, as well as from the Ehine,
the char have come from Geneva, and the grayling been
taken from several British rivers where this delicate
and beautiful fish survives. Eggs can be safely con-
veyed, if packed carefully in wet moss and placed in
wooden boxes.

It will always be found advisable to make provision
in various parts of the river which is intended to be the
future residence of the young fish, not only for the
youthful, but their adult state. Several fish, such as
trout, pass solitary lives, each choosing some particular

OUR RIVER HARVESTS. 286

haunt, and only changing its residence when it has out-
grown its home or can oust a weaker fish from some
comfortable nook.

The trout loves to lie under the shelter of large
stones, and if a good artificial place of refuge can be
made, the best fish are sure to come and take possession
of it. Perhaps the very best substance for this purpose
is the semi-vitrified brick which is found in kilns after
the burning, and which goes by the name of brick-burrs.
This substance is in rather large masses, very irregular,
and not only affords a home which no sensible trout
will despise, but is an effectual barrier to the use of the
net, serving the same purpose in the river as ' bushing '
in the open fields.

Feeding the trout is also useful, for it teaches the
fish to remain near the same spot, and has a marvellous
effect towards increasing its growth. Scarcely any
creature, and certainly no fish, repays care and good
feeding better than the trout, two pounds having been
added to the weight of a fish during a single summer.
When the trout attains a moderate size it will eat all
kinds of animal substance, though it has a predilection
for the great dew-worms that are found at night on the
grass or gravel walks.

These great, fat, and wary creatures can be caught
plentifully by searching for them at night by the aid of
a bull's-eye lantern ; only the step of the hunter must
be very quiet, as they are apt to slip back into their
holes if alarmed. Should they not come readily to the

286 OUT OF DOORS.

surface, they may usually be induced to do so by
driving the prongs of a garden-fork into the ground
and working it about so as to shake the earth around ;
and, if they still should be obdurate, they may be
brought to light by pouring over the ground some water
in which a very little ammonia has been dissolved.

Not only the river fishes, but those of the salt water
can be reared from the earliest stages, and kept in
ponds and fattened just like chickens, only with much
less trouble and expense. Even the flat fishes are
capable of being thus fattened, and become wonderfully
thick in body and firm in flesh, so that their weight is
really astonishing when it is compared with their length.
The food which they require is of the cheapest kind,
and the fattened fish can be sold for so high a price as
to render the speculation extremely remunerative.

A few lines must be given to the machine in which
fish can be conveyed for great distances without suffer-
ing damage or perishing for want of air. It consists,
as may be seen from the accompanying illustration, of
a square metal box closed above with a cover of per-
forated zinc. The box is not nearly filled with water,
so that there is little fear of the contents being splashed
out by the shaking incident to all travelling. The fish
congregate at the bottom, and would soon exhaust the
air contained in the water were it not renewed by
artificial means.

In one corner of the box is placed a forcing-pump,
neatly fitted ip with appropriate valves, and communi-

287

eating with a tube which passes down the corner and
crosses the bottom. The lower portion of the tube is
pierced with holes like those of a watering-cart, and
the pump is so arranged that at each stroke atmospheric
air is driven through the tube and bubbles upwards
through the water, vivifying the exhausted liquid in its
progress. Little trouble is expended on the process, as

TRAXSPOTtTIXG BOX.

half a dozen strokes only are needed at a time, and the
pump is so lightly constructed that a child can work it.
The reader will observe that there is not the least
mystery or even difficulty about the process, and that
anyone who can obtain a supply of water is able to
hatch and rear young fish until they are old enough to
put into a river. Should the fish be of the non-migra-
tory kind they may be placed in a pond, where they
will grow with great rapidity, and are always at hand
when needed. In one pond which had been thus

288 OUT OF DOORS.

stocked, and was netted three years after the tiny
inmates were admitted, no less than eight thousand
pounds weight of fish were captured by a single sweep
of the net. This pond was near Montmirail, in the
department of the Marne, and is now unfortunately
cleared of fish, the proprietor having determined on
filling it up and using the ground for agricultural pur-
poses.

It is rather remarkable that the Chinese, who seem
from time immemorial to have known the rudiments of
almost every science, and never to have advanced
beyond them, are well acquainted with the principles
of pisciculture, and have carried out the science to a
greater extent than is usual with that thrifty and omni-
vorous nation, except when a supply of food is in ques-
tion. They have even discovered that when the little
fishes have absorbed the egg vesicles, and are beginning
to need food which cannot be supplied in the natural
manner by casual insects and aquatic animalcules, the
best way to feed them is to beat up the yolk of an egg
and pour it into the water ; thus furnishing them with
a kind of diet that requires no trouble to procure, being
carried into their tiny mouths by the mere action of
the water ; and which is analogous to the nutriment
contained in the vesicle from which they had previously
drawn their support.

It is of course impossible, in the limited space
which can be allotted to a single subject in these pages,
to give more than a superficial sketch of the processes

OUR RIVER HARVESTS. 289

employed in pisciculture, and a brief notice of the
benefits which are likely to accrue to a nation which
rightly practises the art.

In this country, where so much is left to individual
enterprise, and so little is intrusted to centralisation, it
is scarcely to be expected that the Government will
take up the question. Therefore, although the subject
is really one of national importance, it must rest on its
own money-producing merits, like any other kind of
merchandise ; and all that can be at present done by
the press is to show the ease with which a fish-hatching
apparatus can be established, the very little capital
which is sunk in its erection and management, and the
very large return which is made in proportion to the
sums invested therein.

IT

290 OUT OF DOORS.

THE HOME OF A NATURALIST.1

THERE are naturalists and naturalists. Certain dread-
fully scientific persons who call themselves by that
name seem to consider zoology and comparative
anatomy as convertible terms. When they see a
creature new to them they are seized with a burning
desire to cut it up, to analyse it, to get it under the
microscope, to publish a learned work about it, which
no one can read without an expensive Greek Lexicon,
and to ' put up ' its remains in cells and bottles. They
delight in an abnormal hsemopophysis ; they pin their
faith on a pterygoid process, they stake their reputa-
tion on the number of tubercles in a second molar
tooth, and they quarrel with each other about a notch
on the basisphenoid bone.

Then there are the ' field naturalists,' who delight
in penetrating to the homes and haunts of the creatures
which they love, and spend whole days and nights in
watching their habits. Sometimes a field naturalist
remains at home, and immortalises an obscure village
by the simple process of using his eyes and telling his

1 The proof sheets of this article, which was written in 1862, were
corrected by Mr. Waterton.

THE HOME OF A NATUEALIST. 291

friends what lie has seen. Another wanders far abroad
in quest of new wonders, and, if he faithfully narrates the
marvels he has witnessed, may calculate on being put
down by newspaper critics as a skilful archer with the
long-bow. Such a man was Le Vaillant, and such his
reception by the critical world.

' Giraffe ? Humbug ! ' was the general criticism.

' Contrary to the laws of nature,' said the scientific.

* Would be liable to nine feet of sore throat,' wrote
the witty.

And so the critics and the public enjoyed them-
selves amazingly at the traveller's expense, until the
Pacha of Egypt sent two living giraffes to Europe, and
turned the laugh in the other direction.

Such a man was Bruce, and such his reception.
Peter Pindar showered most pungent epigrams upon
his devoted head, and assailed him with most unsavoury
comparisons. Perhaps there has been no statement of
any traveller that raised such a storm of ridicule as
Brace's perfectly true account of eating beef cut from
the living ox :

Nor have I been where men (what loss, alas !)
Kill half a cow and turn the rest to grass,

writes the poet, who wisely kept out of the redoubtable
traveller's way, unwilling to share the fate of a contem-
porary caviller, who avowed that to devour raw beef
was impossible, and was compelled, at the point of the
sword, to eat his own words, together with a raw and
freshly cut steak. Solvitur edendo.

u 2

292 OUT OF DOORS.

Such a man was Charles Waterton, and such his re-
ception ; the ride on the cayman's back being treated
by the press after the same fashion as Le Vaillant's
giraffe and Bruce's ox. Time, however, is the true
critic ; giraffes are now as familiar as donkeys ; eating
flesh ' in the blood ' is now known to be a custom
existing in many nations from time immemorial ; and
the ride on the cayman has long been deprived of all
marvel, except as a bold and dashing method of
securing a powerful animal without damaging the
skin.1

The discoveries of Mr. Waterton in Guiana are
too well known to need even a passing reference ; but,
though better known to fame, are quite equalled in im-
portance by the perpetual labours of half a century em-
ployed in observing the habits of living beings of our
own land, and restoring to the dead skin the energetic
contours of the living form.

There is perhaps no place in England where the
greatest natural advantages have been so promptly
seized and so largely improved as at Walton Hall, and
it really seems almost impossible for such a combina-
tion of favourable conditions to be elsewhere achieved.
There are many devoted naturalists who would exult in

1 A clergyman of my acquaintance had in his employ, while he was
resident in Guiana many years ago, one of the men who were with Mr.
Waterton when he captured the alligator. The singular four-pointed
hook with which the reptile was caught was at Walton Hall, coyered
with the marks of the alligator's teeth, and within a few feet hung the
skin of the creature itself.

THE HOME OF A NATURALIST. 293

laying out their little domains in a manner calculated
to attract the creatures which they love, but it can
hardly be expected that another naturalist would
possess the enormous natural advantages to be found at
Walton Hall, and be blessed with health to manage his
hobby for fifty years. As a general rule, the sapling
which a young man plants is inherited as a tree by his
grandson, and it is very seldom found that the same
eye which designed the original plan is permitted to
see the results in their full perfection. Such, however,
is the case in this present instance, and it may easily
be imagined that where an extensive domain is laid out
expressly for one purpose, which has been perseveringly
carried out through half a century, and ever directed
by the same mind which planned the design, a success-
ful result is almost a matter of course.

The object which Mr. Waterton proposed to him-
self in 1813, the year after he had returned from the
wilds of Guiana, whither he had gone in 1812 in quest
of wourali poison, was to offer a hearty welcome to
every bird and beast that chose to avail itself of his
hospitality, and by affording them abundant food and
a quiet retreat to induce them to frequent a spot where
they would feel themselves secure from all enemies,
save those which have been appointed to preserve the
balance of nature. Food is always procurable, and the
quiet retreat has been obtained by watching the habits
of the various creatures, and providing them with such
accommodations as they would seek in the wild state.

294 OUT OF DOORS.

Mead, hill and dale, have been laid out to suit the
idiosyncrasies of various species ; and trees of different
kinds have been planted in clumps, rows, or in solitary
state, to attract the birds that love such localities.

A large lake studded with islands and surrounded
by simple meadow land, drooping willows, or thick
woods, has been given up to the aquatic members of
the feathered tribes, and rapid babbling brooks are
at the service of those birds which need the running
stream. An ancient ivy-covered gateway upon the
borders of the lake has been altered for the benefit
of the feathered race, and in a single season seven
pairs of jackdaws, twenty-four pair of starlings, four
pairs of ringdoves, a pair of owls, together 'with smaller
birds, such as blackbirds, redbreasts, redstarts, sparrows,
and chaffinches, have built their nests in the same old
tower, within a few feet of each other, and without
attempting to quarrel.

In order to exclude human and quadrupedal
enemies, a lofty wall has been built in the manner of
a ring fence, surrounding about 260 acres of ground,
having the lake in the centre and the house upon an
island in the lake. A large telescope is mounted in a
room which commands the whole lake and a consider-
able portion of the grounds, so that the most distant
birds can be watched as perfectly as if they were close
at hand. The wall was finished in 1826, and imme-
diately upon its completion the herons came and built in
the park. These beautiful birds absolutely swarm in the

THE HOME OF A NATURALIST. 295

domain, and may be seen standing on one leg through
the greater portion of the day, steady and impassible as
if carved in wood. In order to suit the habits of these
birds a channel has been cut on the side of a slight hill,
which directs the waters of a little spring into the lake,
and along this rivulet the herons love to stand.

To wander in the precincts of this domain seems a
return to the primitive ages of the world, when man,
beast, and bird had no dread of each other, and moved
peacefully in the same happy grounds. The shyest
birds are so well aware of their security that they care
no more for spectators than the London sparrows for
passengers, and will almost suffer themselves to be
touched before they take the trouble to fly away for a
few yards.

No sooner does the owner show himself than there
is a general rush in his direction, and great is the
flapping of wings and welcome of eager voices. Birds
crowd round him on all sides to snatch the expected
morsel from his hand ; and I have seen him walk up to
a bull that was sleepily reposing, coolly sit on his ribs,
and feed the great beast with bread out of his pocket.

All the birds that inhabit this spot are perfectly free
to come and go as they like, but the feeling of absolute
safety is so great an attraction that no precautions are
needed to keep them within the walls. Even the mal-
lards— those shy and wary birds, that test all the
sportsman's craft to approach — come in great flocks to
the lake. They swim in large companies on its smooth

296 OUT OF DOORS.

waters, they edge the banks as far as the eye can reach,
and behave altogether as if they were ordinary tame
ducks. In the evening they take wing for the Lincoln-
shire fens, feed during the night, and return to the
lake by day-dawn. The first point that struck me
on my arrival at the house was the wild cry and loud
wing-clatter of vigilant water-birds, invisible in the
darkness, but quick enough of sight and ear to detect
the presence of a stranger.

The whole place literally teems with life. Sweep
the meadows, the trees, and the waters with the tele-
scope at any season of the year, and each spot toward
which the glass is directed is as busy as a disturbed
ant-hill. On the lake may be seen Egyptian and
Canadian geese, mallards, teal, wigeons, pochards,
golden-eyes, tufted ducks, geese, and shovellers ; and
the only regret in the mind of the owner is that there
is no inlet of sea-water. Still the marine birds often
pay a visit to the lake, and the black-coated cormorant
has made quite a long stay in its precincts, fishing
boldly in front of the house, and gobbling eels with the
astonishing voracity of its race.

The water-hens and coots run about under the very
windows of the house, and sundry other birds would
follow their example were it not for the jealousy of a
fine pair of Egyptian geese, who choose to consider the
.whole island, together with the house, as their especial
property, and drive away all other birds as soon as they
dare to set a foot within the sacred precincts. The

THE HOME OF A NATURALIST. 297

magpies and jackdaws, however, are too cunning for
the geese, and as soon as a mess of potatoes is thrown
down for the legitimate owners, a jackdaw is sure to
come sweeping in one direction and a magpie in another,
and to snap up the choicest morsels in spite of all the
hoarse threats and angry gesticulations of the geese.

One of the most curious results of these investiga-
tions is the absolute certainty with which any bird can
be attracted to a given locality by providing it with a
suitable spot for its nest.

For example, in the hope of inducing the starlings
to build in the grounds, twenty-four holes were bored
in the old gateway tower. The result was that twenty-
four pairs of starlings took possession of the holes, made
their nests, and hatched their young therein. En-
couraged by this success, and being desirous of giving
the handsome and useful starling a home, the kind
naturalist built two towers for the especial accommoda-
tion of these birds. Each tower is set on a pedestal of
solid stone, so made that it cannot be climbed by cats
or rats, the bane of all nestlings, and is absolutely filled
with. chambers.

There is a specially ingenious arrangement about
these towers, which enables the bird to gain access to
her nest through an aperture only just large enough to
admit her body, and at the same time permits the
observer to examine the nest and eggs at his leisure.
The entrance to each chamber is closed by a cube of
stone, having one of the corners squared away. When

1'98 OUT OF DOORS.

the stone is in its place the starling gets to her nest
through the channel left by the missing corner ; but as
the entire stone is moveable it can be pulled out at
will, and thereby exposes the whole interior. The
starlings are now so tame that they have no objection
to being watched, and even after the stone is removed
the bird sits calmly serene on her eggs, following the
intruder with a fearless gaze.

Even the jackdaw builds in a hole within five feet
of the ground, and close to the path which forms the
back entrance to the house. The servants generally
peep at the jackdaw's nest as they pass to and fro on
their avocations, but the bird cares nothing for them, and
treats them with supreme unconcern. Owls, again, were
desired near the house, and a chamber was prepared for
them in the gateway tower already mentioned. The
apartment was hardly completed when a pair of barn
owls took possession of it, and the spot has ever since
been tenanted by these birds. Similarly, the brown
owl was attracted by a large hole cut in a decaying tree,
and by means of these semi-domestic guests, many
disputed points in their habits have been cleared up,
and their characters freed from the reproaches to which
they had been subjected by all previous writers on
natural history.

Herons, again, as has already been mentioned, took
up their abode as soon as the park wall was completed,
exhibiting thereby a marvellous instinct, which made
the birds who build on the tops of the loftiest trees to

THE HOME OF A NATURALIST. 299

feel that their homes were securely guarded by a wall
not one fourth so high as their trees, and which they
could overpass without the least difficulty The azure-
backed and ruddy-breasted kingfisher finds a congenial
home on the banks, though driven from the surround-
ing country by the cruel gun, and lays its pearl-like
eggs in their bony nest, or flashes like a blue meteor
along the shore in happy immunity from the dread tube
that awaits it without the protecting wall. Feeling
themselves perfectly secure, the birds act with the full
freedom of their natures, and, unaffected by the presence
of an observer, perform all the duties of life, play their
pretty pranks, and exhibit their individuality as uncon-
cernedly as if they were in a desert island where the
foot of man had never trod.

The opportunities of gaining knowledge on such
subjects are therefore unequalled, and great benefits
have been conferred on the world by the information
that has been obtained. Putting aside the interesting
character of the pursuit, and the gratification which it
affords to the observer, its results have been of practical
utility. By a long series of useful observations the
imputations under which many birds laboured have
been entirely disproved, and in many cases a bird which
was systematically persecuted and slain by the farmer
has been shown to be a positive friend to its ignorant
murderer. Such birds, for example, as the rook and
crow have been proved to confer immense benefits on
the agriculturist by devouring the subterranean larvae,

300 OUT Of DOORS.

which stealthily consume the roots of the various crops,
and are all the more formidable from the invisible
nature of their assaults. The woodpecker, fiercely ex-
ecrated as a destroyer of the trees, has been a right
good friend to the landowner, feeding itself on the
minute insects that burrow into the bark or into the
decaying wood, and never chipping out its curious
tunnel except in a spot where corruption has begun and
is the sure precursor of death.

The kestrel, again, that was once thought to rival
the kite in its raids upon the poultry-yard, is now
known to do good service by day as does the owl by
night, feeding either on the larger and more destructive
insects, or on the little field-mice that swarm in all
cultivated ground, and, if allowed to increase, make a
woful diminution in the harvest. All the tribe of small
birds, again, have been proved as benefactors to ten
times the value of their depredations. In this domain
is no restriction. Any bird is welcome to establish
itself wherever it can find a suitable spot, may go
wherever it chooses, and may eat whatever it likes.
Field, orchard, and garden are equally at its service,
and it may peck off buds from the trees, eat the cherries
and currants, steal the peas, or revel in the corn just as
its inclination may direct.

To distinguish friends from enemies is one of the
first maxims in warfare, and is of primary importance
in our daily struggles with the soil. All nature is in
arms on one side or the other, and every being, whether

THE HOME OF A NATURALIST. 301

animate or inanimate, is fighting against mankind,
unless with Jasonic skill he compels them to turn their
weapons against each other, and by mutual battles to
consummate his peaceful victories.

In our own country, where individual energies are
permitted to develop themselves without any restric-
tions of the ruling powers, no particular results have
happened from the prevalent misapprehension respect-
ing the friends or foes of husbandry ; but in a neigh-
bouring land, famous for its logical precision of thought,
its pitiless deduction of conclusions from premises, and
the all-pervading influence of the supreme authorities,
the little birds being known to eat seeds, strip the
spring branches of their buds, and rob the autumnal
trees of their produce, were condemned as destructive
to the tenants, and, by the inexorable logic of facts,
doomed to death. Eewards were offered throughout
the land for the heads of small birds, just as in olden
and foolish times the British churchwardens offered
twopence per dozen for the heads of sparrows, and the
juvenile population that was too young, and the adult
population that was too idle to work, soon gathered a
o-oodly number of heads and duly received their reward.

The results, however, were different, owing to two
causes : the one being the universality of the measure
in the one country, and its partial enforcement in the
other ; and the second being that whereas the judicial
authorities abroad, after paying for the birds' heads,
took care to destroy them, the parochial authorities at

302 OUT OF DOORS.

home, after paying for the same, threw them out of the
vestry window into the road, whence they were thriftily
picked up by the expectant pensioners, and sold three
or four times over. The consequence has been that on
the Continent the insects have increased to such a fear-
ful extent that societies have been lately formed for the
express purpose of reintroducing the small birds that
were extirpated at such an expenditure of time and
money ; and guarding against their slaughter by cruel
little boys who take them out of their nests and murder
the fledglings with the refined barbarity of juvenile
civilisation, or by betasseled, green-clad, game-bag
carrying gunners, who ' pot ' them in the hedges and
consider themselves sportsmen. Yet the question has
been definitely settled more than twenty years ago, and
in the ' Home of a Naturalist ' sundry birds that have
long laboured under causeless obloquy have not only
been acquitted of all evil doings, but unexpectedly
received into the number of our friends.

It will be at once seen that if any bird be attracted
by food and a quiet retreat it may be expelled by an
opposite mode of treatment, so that a knowledge of
habit enables us to attract or expel those birds which
we know by repeated observation to be our friends or
foes. The same maxim applies to quadrupeds, and is
often beyond all value.

For example, the farmer is almost invariably keen
in hunting down and killing every weasel, stoat, or
polecat in the neighbourhood, and his barn walls are

THE HOME OF A NATURALIST. 303

generally defiled with numerous carcases nailed upon
them as trophies of their slayer's vigilance. Yet every
weasel is worth an annual sack of corn to the farmer,
even after deducting the value of the few chickens and
ducklings which it may destroy. Marauding cats are
far more destructive than weasels, and if a farmer could
succeed in clearing the neighbourhood of kestrels, rats,
and the weasel tribe, his harvests would make but a
poor show. There is no more determined enemy of the
rat than the weasel and all its tribe. A thousand barn
rats are calculated to devour two hundred pounds' worth
of produce per annum ; and taking into consideration
the extraordinary powers of multiplication possessed by
this insatiate devourer, who eats with equal voracity
com, cheese, bread," and meat of all kinds, whether raw
or cooked, clambers into the pigeon-houses, murders
the young, and destroys the unhatched eggs— nibbles
its way into the hen-roosts by night, and kills the
poultry as they quietly sleep on their perches — finds
the ducks' nests and depopulates them — it is evident
that any creature which gives its services in the destruc-
tion of this prolific and expensive animal is cheaply
repaid at the cost of two or three chickens per annum.
Some of the metropolitan hotel-keepers pay a tolerable
annual wage to professional ratcatchers, and find them-
selves well remunerated for their outlay, even though
the price which they pay is at least a hundred times as
much as a weasel asks for his unceasing work.

Here, then, is another case proving the absolute

,304 OUT OF DOORS.

money value of practical zoology. The armed men rise
from the furrows, fierce, hungry, and destructive, dis-
puting its possession with the new-comer ; but we fling
among them the stone placed in our hand by science,
they turn their arms against each other, and those
which survive the contest become our willing slaves.

Still taking the rat as our text, see how a practical
knowledge of its habits enables us to expel it from any
place where it may have injudiciously taken up its abode.
I say ' injudiciously,' because rats are useful enough in
their right place, and by devouring all kinds of garbage
save us from many pestilential diseases. Granting,
however, that they have established themselves in some
spot where their company is undesirable, how are we to
expel them? Simply enough. Make their quarters
unpleasant, and let them find nothing to eat. This
was the method observed at Walton Hall, where the
rats had triumphantly revelled for many a year, while
the legitimate owner of the house was battling with
snakes and fever in the distant forests of Gruiana.
Finding their haunts liable to continual raids, and their
supplies of food cut off, they left the inhospitable house
in disgust, and when fairly out of it were debarred from
re-entrance by the judicious application of stone and
iron. Fifteen years were occupied in learning the
habits of the rat with sufficient accuracy to attain this
successful result, but, considering the benefit conferred
by this knowledge, the time was by no means wasted.

As a general fact, the result of the half century's

THE HOME OF A NATURALIST. 305

observation tends to prove that Nature will, in all ordi-
nary cases, preserve her own balance ; but that when
man alters the conditions he must ever be watchful of
his experiment, or run a risk of ignominious failure. In
the present instance the wall affords no bar to the in-
grees or egress of the feathered race, who are thereby
restored as nearly as possible to their original state of
freedom, and are enabled to build their nests and
forage for their young without the interruptions which
would check them in any other part of England. The
result is that although a vast number of species con-
gregate within the domain — enough, according to the
popular prejudices, to devastate the gardens, destroy
the crops, and kill all the game — there are few places
where crops, fruit, and flowers are so luxuriantly abun-
dant, or where the game is more plentiful.

Not so, however, with the wingless creatures that
are enclosed within its limits. Being unable to pass
the wall, they are in fact prisoners ; their conditions
have been altered, and they are no longer able to pre-
serve the rightful balance of Nature, so that man, who
has interfered with the regular course of events and
deprived the creatures of their liberty, is forced to
accommodate himself to the altered circumstances, or
take the consequences of his intrusion,

For example, of all laws to be observed in this little
kingdom, the most stringent was that no fire-arms
should be discharged within the walls — a needful and
thoughtful regulation, as nothing alarms birds so

306 OUT OF DOORS.

thoroughly as the report of a gun, or is so likely to
deprive them of the secure retreat so necessary for their
well-being. Now it so happened that a number of
rabbits were enclosed within the wall on its completion,
and, for a time, they did little damage. But rabbits
are nearly as prolific as rats ; and, in spite of those that
were killed by weasels, stoats, and polecats, their
numbers increased in arithmetical progression, and
they became scarcely less hurtful to the crops than the
rats themselves, the turnips being almost destroyed by
their busy teeth. At last the mandate was issued for
their extirpation, and for the first time for many years
guns were fired and dogs roamed at large within the
sacred precincts. Curiously enough the result of the
firing was rather contrary to expectation. Confident
through long immunity, the birds troubled themselves
very little about the guns. At first they were much
disturbed at the unwonted sounds, but soon appeared
to discover that they stood in no danger, and sat look-
ing at the keepers and dogs with amusing composure.
Even the herons only moved away to the tree tops, and
the mallards contented themselves with leaving the
banks as the dogs approached, and swimming towards
the middle of the lake, where they paddled about in
conscious security.

We have now to pass to a collateral branch of the
same subject, and to call attention to the wonderful
museum of stuffed animals which adorns the ' Home of
a Naturalist,' and which is prepared on a principle

THE HOME OF A NATURALIST. 307

equally remarkable for boldness of conception, origi-
nality of design, the Promethean fire which it enables
a skilful operator to infuse into lifeless and flaccid
remains, and the marvellous success with which it
handles the two most troublesome departments of taxi-
dermy, namely, the extremities and the naked skin. By
this process the flowing undulations and softness of the
bare skin are reproduced as they existed during the life
of the subject; to the ears are given their original
expressive roundness without the least symptom of the
wrinkled outline which they usually assume in stuffed
animals ; the nose and muzzle retain their pouting ful-
ness without requiring to be amputated and replaced by
wax, gutta-percha, or other substances, and the paws or
feet present their natural form and expression. More-
over, there is no wire or woodwork within the skin, and
the weight of a prepared animal is so trifling that a
man could carry away a cow or two on his back, take a
tiger under each arm, sling half a dozen snakes round
his neck, and walk off with his load.

We are all familiar with stuffed birds and beasts.
Some of us may have had the misfortune to see some
special pet carried off by death, and to have sent it to
a ' naturalist,' to be stuffed. And those who have com-
mitted this affectionate error are sure to be dissatisfied
with the operator, and to appreciate the infinite
difference between the soft, graceful outlines, the
expressive attitudes, and the sleek glossy coat of their
former favourite, and the stiff, gaunt, distorted form of

x 2

308 OUT OF DOORS.

the stuffed skin, with its round staring eyes, its
withered ears, lips, and nostrils, and its mummified
feet, which bear no more resemblance to the extremi-
ties of the living creature than Yorick's skull to the
living face. Even in the best specimens that have
been stuffed in the ordinary manner, the feet, paws, and
tail are at least sure to be failures after a few years
have elapsed, while the ears and all parts of the body
where the skin is devoid of covering become more
and more shrivelled as time passes on. It is true that
defective taxidermy is not generally detected, simply
because those who look at a stuffed lion, eagle, snake,
or crocodile are not sufficiently familiar with the living
beings to appreciate the short-comings of the prepared
skin ; but if they were as thoroughly acquainted with
those creatures as with their own pet dog, cat, or bird,
they would be equally capable of comprehending the
effect which a badly prepared skin has on a naturalist,
grating on his mind like false harmonies on the ear of
a musician.

It is evident that the fault in defective taxidermy
is twofold — firstly, ignorance on the part of the op-
erator, and, secondly, the insufficiency of the method
which he employs. Putting aside the former and more
obvious cause, let us see how it is that even a dog or
eat cannot be stuffed so that the prepared skin shall
look exactly like the creature while instinct with life.
The fact is that the present system, as generally em-
ployed, is radically false, and can but produce imperfect

THE HOME OF A NATURALIST. 309

results — the skin being arranged while moist upon an
inner basis of yielding substance, such as tow, moss,
hay, &c., and suffered to dry almost at random, all
manipulation being confined to the exterior. Now it
is the property of moist skin to contract during the
process of desiccation, and should its thickness be in
the least unequal the contraction is unequal too, and
so drags itself out of shape, and the hair and feathers
out of their just l set.' The only method by which an
artist can ensure a successful result is to keep the skin
under his control during the whole period occupied in
drying, and to be able to reduce a wrinkle or produce a
protuberance at will. He can thus restore the precise
aspect of the being under his hands ; he can give the
external indications of swelling muscle or hidden joint,
and impart to a mere hollow shell of skin the energy
of a breathing creature. Such examples of true taxi-
dermy are now to be found in Mr. Waterton's museum,
and, unfortunately, in no other place.

There stands Chanticleer, proud and defiant, his
crested head flung aside as if listening to a rival's
challenge, his hackles bristling round his outstretched
neck, and his armed legs firmly planted, as if awaiting
the onset of his foe. There sits the pheasant, glorious
in the full richness of nuptial plumage, its soft sleek
outlines and undulating curves contrasting beautifully
with the fiery action displayed by the champion of the
poultry-yard. Here is a barn owl, fast asleep, not
sitting on a branch, as is the custom of most sleeping

310 OUT OF DOORS.

birds, nor tucking its head under its feathers, but
standing bolt upright, its legs stiff, as if two wooden
skewers had been thrust up them, and its whole aspect
irresistibly reminding the spectator of a dozing cat.
Now here is an example which shows the value of
understanding a bird's habits before undertaking to
stuff its skin. Few persons knew that the owl slept in
this odd position until Mr. Waterton found it out, and
having discovered this peculiar trait of character, he
has indelibly impressed it upon the preserved specimen.
In the museum are more than five hundred speci-
mens preserved by one hand, not including a vast
number of crabs, lobsters, insects, and various other
smaller creatures ; the great zoological value of the
collection being that every specimen is represented in
some natural and characteristic attitude in which it has
been observed by the operator. Thus we have the
toucans, sitting with their air of serious gravity, and
the pert little toucanets, balancing themselves on the
branches in the oddest manner, the bill and tail ap-
proaching each other beneath the bough. Numbers of
parrots and parakeets are displayed in all the attitudes
which those mercurial birds assume, spreading their
*autiful wings for flight, climbing up the boughs with
r hooked beaks, ruffling their feathers, and scolding
li other lustily, and, in fact, wanting nothing but
lovement to seem gifted with life.

There are the lovely humming-birds poised on
idy wmg, hovering about the flowers, or seated in

THE HOME OF A NATURALIST. 311

their wee nests, and looking up with their pretty air of
innocent audacity at the supposed intruder. Not a
feather is missing or out of place, not a speck of black
is to be seen on the burnished gorgets, which literally
blaze with ruby, emerald, and topaz, when the sunbeams
shine on them. The woodpeckers are hard at work on
their trees, the quail trips daintily over the grass, and
the warblers sit at rest on the branches, or flutter their
plumage as if filled with ecstasy at their own melodious
carols.

The great coulacounara snake lies coiled in dreadful
folds, his eyes dully gleaming under their brows, and
his head idly reposing on the pillow of his own body.
Venomous serpents are seen lurking amid the foliage,
one quietly sleeping, another drawing back the angry
head in readiness for the stroke, the forked tongue
quivering and the threatening fangs erect, while a third
is triumphantly bearing off a fluttering victim in its
jaws, the birds around fleeing in dismay.

Turning from the feathered to the furred races, the
specimens are quite as characteristic. A huge ant-bear
prowls along, his bushy tail curled over his back, and
enveloping him in a torrent of hair, and his long snout
held close to the ground, as if in search of his insect
prey. A sloth is seen ascending a branch, clinging
firmly with all its limbs, stretching out its neck, and
wearing that peculiar pitiful, wistful look so character-
istic of the creature. The weasel is seen, not stuffed,
as is the custom in the dealers' shops, straight and long-

312 OUT OF DOORS.

backed like a furred lizard, but with arched back,
recurved neck, and head drawn snake-like to the
shoulders, just as the little creature appears when sud-
denly alarmed and ready to jump in any direction at a
moment's notice.

Perhaps the apes are the most surprising examples
of successful preparation. Everyone knows how utterly
unsatisfactory is a stuffed monkey, with its face
shrivelled out of all shape and expression, and looking
as if punched out of an old shoe, its withered fingers
like knotted sticks covered with scorched parchment,
and the total want of ' set ' in its fur — defects which
increase with time, and quite ruin the real value and
true object of the specimen.

But here is a young chimpanzee, sitting with a
negligently easy air on a cocoa-nut, and contemplating
the landscape with the air of profound wisdom and
grotesque melancholy so often seen in the few tail-less
apes that have been brought to this country in a living
state. The mouth and lips possess all the soft round-
ness of life ; the ears, nose, and forehead have regained
their wonted contour ; and even the bare palms are so
perfect that the little wrinkles caused by their half-
closed state, as they lie negligently on the lap, are
reproduced with marvellous fidelity.

(ret the creature between yourself and the window,
and you will see that it is perfectly hollow, so hollow,
indeed, that the hands and face are translucent as
letter-paper — even to the very finger-nails. There ia

THE HOME OF A NATURALIST. 313

literally nothing in it but air, the skin "being hard and
elastic as if made of horn. A ' chuck ' under the chin,
and off tumbles its head, so as to allow a full view of
the interior. Lift the creature, and the hand flies up
with its lightness, as when one takes up an empty ewer
thinking it to be full of water.

Almost anything may be done with the skin when
once prepared after this fashion. Should it be stuffed
abroad, it may be cut in twenty pieces for the conve-
nience of package, and put together again without a
mark to betray the junctions. See, it can be crumpled
between the fingers and squeezed like a sponge, return-
ing to its original shape by the strange elastic firmness
which the skin has now attained. It can be picked up
by a pinch of hair and swung about without damage.
Its fur can be rumpled and pulled about until it sticks
out in all directions, and then replaced with a few
strokes of a brush. It may be kicked downstairs, or
flung from the top of the Monument, without showing
a sign of ill-usage. It may be squeezed flat as a pan-
cake, and, when the pressure is removed, will resume
its shape with the elasticity of a hollow india-rubber
ball.

But better still, it is totally impervious to insect
foes; it has no unpleasant smell such as is found in
skins stuffed after the ordinary fashion ; there is no
horrid arsenical soap to endanger the sight, impair the
appetite, and loosen the teeth of the operator; the
creature stands boldly in the open air, with a simple

314 OUT OF DOORS.

glass cover to keep the dust off, and there is no need of
camphor or turpentine, whose oppressive vapours per-
vade our museums, and give direful headaches to the
visitors. You may take at random any of the five
hundred specimens, say a bird, put it in a box, together
with moth-eaten furs, feathers, and blankets, with mite-
covered insects, and with a pint or two of the terrible
dermestes — that scourge of museums — prolific, sharp-
toothed, and voracious, capable of devouring a case-full
of birds in a marvellously short time, and leaving no
relics of the once beautiful inmates except some wires
and a little tow clinging to them. Put the chest aside
for twenty years, and when the accumulated dust has
been brushed off, the bird will be found bright and un-
injured as when it was first placed in the box.

In fact, the apparently frail and perishable skin has
been rendered so impregnable to all ordinary foes that
it can only be injured by main force, fire, or water, and
even in the latter case could be soon re-modelled into
its former shape. To all appearance, indeed, the light
and delicate fur and down are likely to outlast the
edifice of stone and iron in which they are sheltered,
and to be a more enduring memorial of their preserver
than monuments of brass or cenotaphs of marble. It
will be seen, too, that by the plan of employing the
mere skin the whole of the body is set free for the
purposes of the anatomist : no slight advantage in the
case of a rare or choice specimen.

Such are the results, but what of the means?

THE HOME OF A NATURALIST. 315

Simple in the extreme. The tools required hardly
deserve the name, for all these wondrous effects have
been produced with a penknife, a lump of wax, half-a-
dozen needles, and three or four wooden skewers. The
process is so cleanly that it can be conducted in a
drawing-room, without soiling the most delicate furni-
ture ; and we have had the pleasure of seeing the
inventor engaged in the manipulation of a pheasant,
just as a lady employs her fingers on the elaborate
entanglement of thread, called by courtesy her ' work.'

In simple fact the modus agendi is pure modelling,
the skin being used as the material, and reduced by art
to the plastic state of sculptor's clay, a temporary
stuffing being only placed within it to keep the skin
moderately distended during the progress of its drying.
The obedience of the material to the touch of the hand
is almost incredible ; and in the collection may be seen
several specimens that have purposely been distorted
into all kinds of strange shapes, in order to show the
value of the process in the hand of a master. Frogs,
toads, and lizards are grotesquely transmuted into
caricatures of the human form; extraneous joints,
limbs, claws, and horns sprout from unexpected places.

Perhaps the most striking of these transformations
is the well-known nondescript, wherein the natural
countenance of the Howler monkey has been changed
with such forcible and telling fidelity into the face of a
quaint and eccentric but genial-hearted old man, that
many of those who visit the museum leave it under the

316 OUT OF DOORS.

idea that they have been contemplating the prepared
skin of a * native,' and one gentleman, on seeing an
engraving of the object, took it for a portrait of the
operator, and thought that Mr. Waterton must be a
very odd- looking person. Less in dimensions, but not
less amusing, are the bizarre forms wittily ticketed as
Cancer zodiacus and Diabolus coeruleus, two ludicrous
combinations of heterogeneous parts, belonging to all
kinds of creatures ; and the various odd compositions
that meet the eye are made with a marvellous ingenuity
that surpasses even the far-famed Japanese mermaids
(of which, by the way, I have examined several j, and
bewilders the casual visitor to such an extent that he
is led to doubt whether the very staircase may not be a
deception. These objects are only manufactured for
the purpose of showing the perfection to which the art
of skin-modelling can be brought, and the plastic
nature of the material placed in the taxidermist's
hands.

It has been suggested that the time consumed in
completing one of these specimens — namely, seven or
eight weeks for a creature as large as a leopard — would
debar professional taxidermists from employing the
system. But each specimen only requires about half
an hour's work daily, so that, after the first start, an
industrious operator can turn out as many specimens as
under the present system. Mr. Waterton, for example,
always has several skins in hand, in different stages of
progress, and by giving a few minutes' labour to each

THE HOME OF A NATURALIST. 317

specimen several times daily, keeps up a constant influx
of new objects into his museum. It is very interesting
to watch the advance of the skin through the operation,
and to see how it gradually grows from a wet and almost
shapeless mass into a form apparently instinct with
life and energy, like a lump of clay under the sculptor's
hand; and how the skin, at first loose and flaccid,
gradually acquires firmness and plasticity, until at
length it obeys the slightest touch of the operator's
hand, and permits each feather or hair to be arranged
according to his will.

There are one or two other modes of taxidermy
which deserve a passing notice. In one method, for
example, the operator removes the skin, takes a cast in
plaster-of-Paris of the ' ecorchee,' and stretches the
skin over the cast, thus ensuring for the time an exact
copy of the original. Yet even this plan, despite of its
ingenuity, is but partially and temporarily successful ;
for all skin will persist in contracting as it dries, and
the operator cannot possibly give the thousand little
elevations and depressions of the softer parts, on which
depends so much of the true expression.

Another most ingenious plan is that which has been
employed by Professor Sokolov, of the Imperial
University of Moscow. By this process, which consists
of injecting certain preservative fluids into the system,
the whole substance is rendered impervious to decay,
and even the expression of the features so perfectly re-
tained that the first impression of a spectator is that

818 OUT OF DOORS.

the form has been modelled in wax. Even the natural
elasticity of the flesh is partially preserved, and if it
be pinched it will give to the pressure and return to
the original form. Moreover, the whole organisation
remains so unchanged that it is still suitable for the
scalpel of the anatomist, and even the delicate fibres of
the muscles retain their organisation. Marvellous as is
this preparation, it is still faulty in the extremities, to
which the preserving fluid appears not always to find
free access, on account of the small diameter of the
capillaries. It is, however, a very great advance on all
former systems of embalming, and as its essential pro-
cesses are only the work of a few hours, it bids fair to be
invaluable to comparative anatomists, who can thus get
large and valuable specimens from distant lands
without the vast outlay in spirits and great con-
sumption of space that have hitherto been necessary.

Take it all in all, we have at present no process of
taxidermy which presents so many excellencies and so
few defects as that which is invented and practised by
Mr. Waterton ; and after a careful examination of
almost every interesting specimen of taxidermy in the
kingdom, we cannot but think that a judicious combi-
nation of the two systems (however opposite they may
seem) of Mr. Waterton and Professor Sokolov would be
of infinite value to science, inasmuch as the whole of
the creature would be made available for the museum
or the dissecting-room.

319

LIFE IN THE OCEAN WAVE.

IT really must be a pleasant life in the clear salt sea,
at least if we may judge from the splendid aquarium at
the Crystal Palace, where we are, so to speak, let down
some ten or twelve feet from the surface, and are
brought face to face with its inhabitants. Imagine a
spacious corridor, more than two hundred feet in length,
having one side filled with large single-paned plate-glass
windows, and that corridor sunk bodily into the sea so
that through the windows we can watch the fishes,
crabs, lobsters, shrimps, and other denizens of the
shores, all busily engaged in their several vocations.
Such is the general idea presented to the visitor when
he enters the aquarium, and how that effect is produced
we shall presently see. Besides their glass windows,
through which we look into the sea, there are a number
of comparatively shallow open tanks, so arranged that
the visitor is able to look down upon the inhabitants
and see them through the surface of the water.

Let us now take a walk round the corridors and
inspect the ocean as seen through the glass. Each open-
ing looks into a rocky cavern inhabited by various

320 OUT OF DOORS.

creatures, whose names are duly placarded in front of
the window. One of these caverns is tenanted by sea
cray-fish, lobsters, and certain most brilliant fish,
covered with zebra-like stripes of green and pink, and
called by the name of wrasse. These fishes possess a
splendour which is almost tropical, and it is really
hard to believe that they can be inhabitants of our com-
paratively dull coasts. The lobsters keep themselves
quiet, as a rule, and wedge themselves into crannies,
with their large claws hanging down like the paws of a
dancing-dog. The cray-fish, however, are very locomo-
tive, and it is astonishing how different they look in
the water, or in a fishmonger's shop. Generally, during
the day-time, they, like the lobsters, keep quiet in
their retreats ; from which, however, their long, straight,
stout antennae project like the bayonets of sentries.
And indeed this is one of the principal use of these
organs. The cray-fish does not possess the powerful
claws which form the lobster's weapons, but the
antennae serve a similar purpose, though in a different
way. They are covered with small sharp projections,
and are constructed much on the same principle as the
terrible shark-tooth spears of Mangaia. With these
spears the cray-fish fences, so to speak, and can drive
away the generality of its foes. Mr. Lloyd, the
designer and superintendent of the aquarium, informs
us that he has seen various fishes thus driven away, and
that even the conger-eel, with all its activity, is baffled
by these singular weapons.

LIFE IN THE OCEAN WAVE. 321

Towards evening the cray-fish come out from their
caves and walk on the sand. It is astonishing how high
they stand on their legs, and how large they look. One
of the oddest things connected with them is that the
wrasses have taken a fancy to swim under the cray-
fish as they walk along, just like dogs under carts,
sometimes slipping away for a moment, but always
coming back again and resuming their places as if
performing an act of duty. It is worth while to look
carefully along the back of the cray-fish, on which are
sundry white filaments waving steadily to and fro.
These are in reality the ' cirrhi,' or bristle-legs of the
ocean barnacle, numbers of which have fixed them-
selves on the shell of the cray-fish, and there sweep the
waters with their net-like legs, so as to procure the tiny
morsels of nutriment which float unseen, and are
removed by the most efficient of Nature's scavengers.

Another grotto is chiefly inhabited by prawns, and
presents a most singular and beautiful picture of life
below the waves. Every projecting ledge of rock is
crowded with the semi-transparent bodies of prawns,
while the light flashes in bright sparklets from their
waving antennae, or is reflected from their mobile eyes,
which glare like living opals. Some are sitting or
crawling on the sand, while one or two hang suspended
in the water, as the kestrel hangs in air, surrounding
themselves with the tiny ripples caused by the cease-
less movement of the fan-legs, which drive the water
through their gills.

322 OUT OF DOORS.

Calm and peaceful as is the grotto, it can at once be
transformed into a scene of the wildest excitement. At
a sign from Mr. Lloyd an attendant disappears, and
presently a shadow is seen on the surface of the water,
and a small white object — a morsel of whelk — falls from
the shadow, and sinks slowly through the water. At
first no notice is taken, but in a second or two a prawn
leisurely crosses the track of the still sinking morsel.
Instantly it scents its food, starts into sudden activity,
and follows on the scent just as a hound follows a fox.
Another and another succeed, and it is remarkable that
while the prawns seem to let the food pass before their
eyes without taking any particular notice of it, no
sooner do they perceive the scent of the water through
which it has sunk than they are after it at once. Now
comes a whole shower of chopped whelk or mussel, and
in a few seconds the tank is filled with prawns, all in
busy excitement, some tucking up, or rather, down,
their food, and others carrying off the white morsels
to a quiet resting-place where they can eat in peace.
Much the same habit distinguishes the whelks them-
selves and other carnivorous molluscs, which can be
allured out of their retreats by trailing a morsel of
food near them. They do not see the food, but they
smell it, and forthwith set off in search of the expected
banquet.

The reader will have probably remarked that we have
only noticed a few of those marine animals who act as
food. There are plenty of others, including the

LIFE IN THE OCEAN WAVE 323

oyster, the mussel, and the cockle, the latter remark-
able for its long coral-like feet, and its wonderful
powers of jumping. There are soles, plaice, skate, and
a variety of flat fish, all of which have their particular
ways. The sole, for example, has a specially wide-awake
air about it, as it lies on the sand with its head raised,
and its large eyes set on two projections so as to give it
a wide scope of vision. As it moves through the water
it glides in a succession of undulating curves of the
most graceful character, the glittering white under-
surface occasionally showing itself, as the creature
pursues its graceful course, every movement exemplify-
ing a line of beauty. A dead sole lying flat on a fish-
monger's slab and a living sole in motion seem almost
to be different beings, so utterly unlike are they.

Plaice and dabs act much like the sole ; but the
ray lies flat and motionless on the sand, from which it
can scarcely be distinguished. A touch, however, at
once rouses it, and sends it darting through the water
at wonderful speed. It soon slackens its pace, and
comes slowly floating back to its old quarters, in a man-
ner which irresistibly reminds the observer of Tom
Hood's humorous comparison of ' swimming a kite.1
Then there are plenty of cod, and very pretty creatures
they are, with their large eyes, spotted bodies, and the
broad waved silver stripe along their sides. To see
them in perfection a few living shrimps should be
thrown into the water, when the fish dart at them,
making their glittering sides flash and sparkle in the

Y 2

824 OUT OF DOORS.

light. It really seems impossible to eat cod fish
after seeing the creatures alive.

As to the whiting, they look almost too beautiful to
live, far too beautiful to eat. Their bodies are as if
made of mother-of-pearl, over which an opaline lustre is
perpetually flitting, and they are so translucent that if
another fish passes behind one of them, its presence,
though not its outline, can be seen through the
whiting's body. There is ample store of mullet, which
are particularly valuable inhabitants of an aquarium,
because they clear away the vegetation which is always
liable to collect on the glass, and to render it so dim
that nothing can be seen behind it. Many of the fish
have become so familiar that when food is placed on
the end of a stick and offered to them they will come
and eat it, acting, as a bystander said, 'just like
Christians.' Tndeed, according to Mr. Lloyd, they are
a great deal better than the general run of Christians,
since they never quarrel for quarrelling's sake. It is
true that if one of them be sick its brethren will eat it,
but that is only in accordance with the conservative
laws of Nature. Or two gentlemen may quarrel over a
lady, and one combatant be killed, in which case he i&
sure to be eaten ; but that is only the struggle for ex-
istence. Or a large hermit crab, which is in a little
shell, may eject a little hermit crab who lives in a large
shell, and enforces a change of residence ; but that is
>nly carrying out the law of self-preservation. Spite
and malice, however, have no place in the dispositions

LIFE IN THE OCEAN WAVE. 325

of these marine dwellers, and their natural tendency is
to peace and quiet.

As to the odd fish in the aquarium, they are without
number and we can only mention one or two.

The first of these is the butterfly gurnard, BO
called from the pectoral fins, which, when fully expan-
ded, look exactly like the wings of some gorgeous
butterfly. They are fan-shaped, and edged with the
most vivid light blue. The disc of the fin is soft
brown, powdered with light blue spots ; while nearly
in the centre is an oval patch of deep satiny blue, on
which are scattered a number of pearl-white spots. The
rest of the fish is plain brown, so that the contrast be-
tween the colour of the butterfly- like fins and the dull
brown of the body is absolutely startling.

Another odd fish is the lump-sucker, so called on
account of its lumpish form — which many of the spec-
tators refuse to acknowledge to be that of a fish — and
its peculiar sucking apparatus on the breast. With this
sticker it clings firmly to rock, glass, or any similar
substance, and has a quaint mode of always bending its
tail on one side, so as to shorten its body nearly one
half, and to take off the leverage which might affect
the holding powers of its sucker. In this attitude it
looks as little like a fish as may be, neither attitude,
form, nor colour being in the least fish-like according
to the ordinary ideas of fish. We must not pass over
the long-bodied marine sticklebacks, notable for their
habit of building nests under water. One of these fish,

326 OUT OF DOORS.

with more ingenuity than discretion, utilised the end of
an old rope that was hanging in the water, and wove the
ravelled fibres into its nest, not knowing that ropes
which are hanging in the water are likely to be pulled
up again.

Nor must we forget the smooth blenny, which can
crawl up rocks and remain out of water for a considerable
time, and can be so easily tamed that it can be fed
while lying in the hand. Nor its near relative, the
viviparous blenny, which, as its name imports, does not
lay eggs after the manner of fish generally, but saves
time by producing living young. Some little time ago
there was a great fuss made about some exotic fish that
had been shown to be viviparous, while all the while
we had on our own shores a perfectly familiar vivi-
parous fish, which no one seemed to think at all won-
derful. . Distance, as usual, had lent enchantment to
the view.

Perforce we must part with the fish and inspect the
molluscs.

At the head of them all come the cuttles, about
which so much sensational writing has been inflicted
on the public. There are several cuttles in the
aquarium, the largest of which is the octopus, which
the newspapers will call the devil fish, whereas it is, as
a general rule, a very harmless creature, the real devil
fish being a gigantic skate, one of which has been
known to measure twenty-eight feet in width and
twenty in length, and to weigh a ton. The octopus is

LIFE IN THE OCEAN WAVE. 327

nothing but a big sea-slug, with a higher development
than the generality of molluscs. In fact, in the cuttles
we find the first approach to a brain and a skull, though
the former is insignificant, and the latter only gristle.
As to the eight arms of the creature, with their array of
suckers, they are easily to be accounted for. Most of
us have seen a snail crawling on glass, and noticed the
flat ' foot ' on which it glides. Now supposing this
foot to be cut into eight strips, and each strip to be
greatly elongated, it is evident that the holding power
of the foot would be gone, so in order to compensate
for this defect, each of the strips is furnished with
suckers, sometimes in a single, and sometimes in a
double row. All the stories that have been told about
its power of leaving the water and attacking men on shore
are as absurdly false as the old fable of the sailing
nautilus — which, by the way, we lately saw reproduced
in two modern illustrated books.

The cuttles in the aquarium have a great dislike to
showing themselves, and generally spend their time in
the rock crannies, where they cannot be seen. The
large octopus had, on the occasion of our visit, been
(pace Mr. Lloyd) sulky for weeks, and never would
come out of his den, showing nothing but the tips of
one or two arms writhing about the entrance of his
home. However, as if conscious that he was going into
print, he gallantly came out and exhibited all his
points, just as if he had been a trained cuttle going
through all his performances. First he slowly emerged

328 OUT OF DOORS.

from his hole, and let himself sink gently on the sand.
Next he began to crawl, using his arms by way of legs,
and ending by standing on two of them, while with the
others he explored the rock he meant to scale. Then
he showed us his skill in climbing, stretching the arms
to their fullest length, fixing the suckers, and thus
drawing his body up. That done, he suddenly shot
through the water backwards, propelled partly by water
ejected from a tube called a siphon, and partly by the
contraction of the webbed base 01 the foot.

Finally he sank again to the sand, and went
through a number of movements, which we can literally
call evolutions, as they seemed to be intended for the
purpose of showing the mobility of the arms, and the
extraordinary and complicated curves and knots into
which they could be thrown. Whether induced by
example, or by the spirit of competition, we cannot say,
but two other cuttles came from their hiding-places,
and we had presented to us the unwonted spectacle of
three living cuttles all in view at the same time. This
was the more noticeable because an attendant had in
vain tried to dislodge them. No endeavour of his had
the least effect, but almost as soon as he had desisted
they came out of their own accord. Very human in-
deed. At last the octopus concluded his performance
by retiring to his old home, a hole into which he
gradually packed himself in a manner that irresistibly
reminded us of Baron Bradwardine insinuating himself
into his ' Patmos.' What more can we say ? We could

LIFE IN THE OCEAN WAVE. 329

fill column after column with the ways and manners of
these curious beings — how the sea-anemones are fed regu-
larly with bits of mussel, how the purple whelk persists in
congregating under the water inlets, and there deposit-
ing its strange foot-stalked eggs, each egg looking very
much like a ninepin set on end — how many of the
lower beings, including our Darwinian ancestors the
Ascidians, seem to come of their own accord, and are
far better and cleaner for zoological purposes than
those which have been taken in the sea. But space
fails us, and we can but briefly describe how this vast
army of animated beings is kept in health.

The key to this problem is double, namely, cleanli-
ness and circulation.

The cleaning of the aquarium is attended to with
the most scrupulous fidelity. The water passes through
tubes of vulcanite, so that no metallic oxide can poison
it. The food which is given to the animals is absolutely
fresh, and that which has to be cut is chopped on a
large sloping slate, over which runs a stream of water.
No dead animal is allowed to remain in the tanks, and
every particle of uneaten food is removed.

Circulation is as carefully secured. There is a
double set of engines and pumps, by means of which
the water is kept perpetually flowing through the tanks.
By the courtesy of Mr. Lloyd we were taken behind the
scenes, and enabled to understand the enormous amount
of thought and labour which alone can maintain such
an establishment. As Mr. Lloyd well remarks, the

330 OUT OF DOORS.

engines are the heart of the aquarium, and the water is
the blood. Under the feet of the visitor is an enormous
tank, in which are eighty thousand gallons of sea water,
exclusive of the twenty thousand gallons contained in
the inhabited tanks. By means of the engine the
water is kept perpetually circulating through the upper
and lower tanks, while at the same time air is driven
forcibly into it, and it is exposed both to the fresh air
and to sunshine. Everything is carefully calculated,
and even the wooden bridge on which the attendants
walk has another use, serving also to keep off the light
from the water, and so to discourage the excessive-
growth of the green algae which are the plague of most
aquariums. The consequence of this constant care is
that the water is kept bright and clear as crystal, and,
though the visitor is surrounded with many thousands
of living beings, not the least evil odour is perceptible,,
the air being as fresh and pure as it is outside the
building.

Uniformity of temperature is also secured, and even
during the few broiling days of last year, when the
Green wich register showed 88 degrees in the shade, the
temperature of the aquarium was just 20 degrees lower.
After all that we have said, can the reader do better
than make a long visit to the aquarium, buy a hand-
book, and make himself thoroughly acquainted with the
world of wonders that lies unknown at our feet as we
wander on the seashore ?

881

OUR LAST HIPPOPOTAMUS.

THE poor little hippopotamus is dead. It was scarcely
expected to live ; but its death was nevertheless a severe
disappointment, especially after the trouble and per-
sonal risk that were involved in the attempt to save its
life.

About five o'clock in the morning the little
animal was born. The keeper knew that it was
there from the odd sounds made by its mother —
sounds of angry jealousy against some foe unknown.
She slapped her vast jaws together, gnashed her
teeth, and snorted loud defiance ; though no one
was in the house except the keeper, who was watching
her from his unseen post of observation above. As day-
light broke the small hippopotamus was seen lying by
its mother ; and the two were anxiously watched in
order to find out whether the young one took nourish-
ment. This it was never seen to do. It followed its
mother about wherever she went, so that it was not de-
ficient in strength ; but it was never once seen to suck.
Still, though in the daytime it certainly took no
nourishment, it is impossible to say whether or not it

382 OUT OF DOORS.

may have done so at night ; for many of those animals
are exceedingly shy and wary, and will not even feed if
they think that they can be seen.

In the present case, however, there is scarcely any
doubt that the little hippopotamus took no nourish-
ment at all. Either it did not know where to seek
food, or its mother was too stupid to show it, for it did
attempt to extract milk from her ears, but naturally
failed. Two days having thus passed, it was evident
that unless the young one could be separated from its
mother and artificially fed it must inevitably die ; but
the difficulty lay in the mode of separation. To rob a
mother of her young is proverbially dangerous; and
when the mother is a savage, cross-grained beast, weigh-
ing some three tons, and capable of ' chawing up a
human' with the greatest ease, the task is peculiarly
perilous.

On Tuesday, the 9th, an attempt was made to get
the mother away from her child. The two were lying
on the ground, at some little distance from the water ;
and it was thought that if the mother could be decoyed
' into the pond, it might be possible to abstract the young
calf before she could get out again. Now this creature
is emphatically a good hater. She hates all kinds of
things and persons. She hates workmen without their
coats. I once saw her charge at a workman, and bite
at the iron bars so savagely that she broke one of her
enormous teeth completely into the jaw. But if there
be one thing she hates beyond all it is the garden

OUR LAST HIPPOPOTAMUS. 333

engine. The very sight of it, or even the sound of its
wheels, sets her beside herself with rage, and whenever
she sees it she is sure to charge. Accordingly the
engine was run towards the water. In went the hippo-
potamus ; but unfortunately the little one plumped in
after its mother, so that the ruse failed of its effect.
The calf, in spite of its tender age, evidently enjoyed
the water very much, swam about, and finally went to
sleep, with its chin resting on the side of the pond — a
favourite attitude with these animals.

Next day, when the mother walked about the house,
her child lay still, being evidently weaker ; so that Mr.
Bartlett, the superintendent of the Gardens, decided on
making another attempt to get the calf out of the
house. He got together a small but effective staff, and
laid out his plans. In order that the public might
realise the difficulty of the situation, the perilous
nature of the task, and the ingenuity of the device, I
must briefly describe the scene of operations. On the
right of the den is a small pond, shut off from the plat-
form at will by iron railings ; and on the extreme left
is a small door, barely thirty inches square. The
scheme was as follows. The garden engine was to be
again run into the building, and so soon as the hippo-
potamus charged into the water, one of the men was to
dash into the cage — if possible, to shut the animal into
the pond, get out the young one, and make his escape
before the mother could reach him.

Accordingly Mr. Bartlett stood by the door, ready

334 OUT OF DOORS.

to open it at the right moment; his son, with
Thompson and Godfrey, *-wo of the keepers, was close at
hand with a stout cloth ; Prescott, the head keeper,
was in charge of the engine, and Scott, the elephant-
keeper — a very active and daring man — was selected
for the dangerous task of entering the den. Every-
thing was arranged, to use Mr. Bartlett's own expres-
sion, ' like a trick in a pantomime ; ' for the whole busi-
ness could not last more than a few seconds.

All being ready, Prescott ran the engine into the
house and began to pump into the pond, that being the
insult which the hippopotamus will least of all endure.
In she went, and, as she rose, Prescott pumped the
water in her face ; thus half blinding her, and gaining
just the time that was needed. Simultaneously Scott
ran into the den, picked up the young calf, which was
lying close to the water, and handed it through the
door to Mr. Bartlett and his assistants. The expectant
party took it in the cloth, and ran away with it. Mr.
Bartlett fastened the door, Prescott ran the engine out
of the house ; and, before she recovered from the sur-
prise of the water in her face, the enraged hippopota-
mus found herself alone, with nothing on which to
vent her fury. Of course she missed her calf, and
began to hunt for it, but her rage soon cooled down when
she could see no enemy ; and, except bearing a rather
deeper grudge than usual against Mr. Bartlett, she re-
gained her usual temper. Still when I paid her a visit
she looked ominously sulky ; and, as she lay half in and

OUR LAST HIPPOPOTAMUS. 336

half out of the water, her eye had a wicked glare in it
that was not pleasant to see.

Without a practical knowledge of the animal it is
scarcely possible to realise the difficulty and danger of
the task which was so successfully performed. Under
any circumstances it is not easy to pick up a hippopo-
tamus, however young. It weighs somewhere about
a hundred pounds, and its skin is as slippery as if it
had been dipped in oil. Add to this, that the floor of
the den is wet and smooth, offering scarcely any foot-
hold ; that the young captive kicks and yells with all
its power ; and that within a few feet is its infuriated
mother — and some idea may be formed of the feat
which was achieved by those six men. Then no one
who has not seen the hippopotamus in one of her furies
can appreciate the risk that is run by any man who
goes into the den. She is quick and active beyond
conception, flies about like lightning, bellowing forth
roar after roar and making the building tremble. On
the present occasion her deafening roars did good
service ; for they completely drowned the cries of her
young one, and enabled the keepers to carry it off un-
heard as well as unseen. She can rear herself on her
hind legs in her attempts to get at a supposed enemy ;
and when her weight of three tons is brought to bear
upon railings which are not too strong, no small nerve
is required in treating such an animal.

Now let us follow the fortunes of the calf. It was
taken quite to the other end of the Gardens, that its

880 OUT OF DOORS.

mother should not be able to hear its cries. Had she
done so, she would have tried to force her way to its
rescue, and it is very doubtful whether, in that case, the
iron bars of the den, or even the wall of the building
itself, could have withstood the shock of her reckless
charges. When comfortably housed, the little animal
was found to be suffering severely from cold, and
means were at once devised to restore the proper tem-
perature. Blankets were dipped in boiling water,
wrung as dry as possible, and then rolled round the
sufferer. Over the blankets was laid a thick coat of
cotton wool, and before very long Mr. Bartlett had the
pleasure of finding the heat of the body fairly restored.
Nourishment was the next business. At first every
offer was refused, but by degrees the calf was induced to
suck at an ingenious apparatus of india-rubber and
canvas attached to the mouth of a bottle filled with warm
milk. It was found necessary to blind its eyes when
the bottle was placed to its lips, and to preserve abso-
lute silence, for the little creature was so sensitive that
it would take no nourishment so long as it could see a
human being or hear the sound of a human voice. Its
extreme shyness gave some colour to the belief that it
may have sucked in the night, when no one could see
it. The warm milk seemed to comfort the animal, and
it soon quieted down and slept.

The milk, by the way, was chiefly that of the ass,
for, in an early stage of life, cow's milk is found to be
too rich, and to be therefore fatal. This was shown by

OUR LAST HIPPOPOTAMUS. 337

the experience gained at Amsterdam. Five hippopo"
tamus calves have been born there, and nearly all have
died soon after birth. On dissection after death it was
found that the first two calves had died from indigestion,
the cow's milk with which they were fed having been
curdled into solid lumps. Afterwards ass's milk was
used, and with sufficient success to enable a young
hippopotamus to be reared. There seems to be an
adverse fate against the hippopotamus. This European
specimen was bought, when a few months old, by an
American firm. They gave 1,000£ for it, and thought
partially to l recoup ' themselves by showing it in Eng-
land before it crossed the Atlantic. The speculation
was unfortunate, for the animal was burned to death in
the disastrous fire which destroyed the Tropical Depart-
ment of the Crystal Palace some years ago, so that there
is not a single specimen of a hippopotamus bred in
Europe.1

To return to our calf. It took about three pints of
milk in six hours, once imbibing nearly a pint at a time.
Nothing, however, could save it, and about seven p.m.
of the same day it died. Should the reader wish to
know what a hippopotamus baby looks like, he has only
to go to the Zoological Gardens, where he may see the
stuffed skin of the older calf, and close to it a plaster
cast of the baby, taken by Mr. Frank Buckland.

There is a comic element in most human affairs ;

1 The reader is probably aware that since this article was written, the
rearing of the young Hippopotamus has been successfully accomplished.

:«i8 OUT OF DOORS.

and this was furnished by the letters with which Mr.
Bartlett was inundated, all giving- advice as to the best
mode of feeding the young calf. One correspondent
proposed that milk should be squirted at its mouth
from a syringe. Several suggested that the mother
should be chloroformed, and the calf removed while she
was insensible. Now anyone with the least knowledge
«>f chloroform is aware that to place an animal under
its influence is a matter of the greatest difficulty. For
example, some little time ago, when it was needful to
put a tapir under chloroform, the operation lasted for
an hour, and required the combined efforts of Mr.
Bartlett and six assistants, acting under the direction
of the surgeon, though they had an apparatus which
fitted on the animal's head. As to chloroforming an
hippopotamus, it would be quite as easy to chloroform
a whale. Yet the correspondents — all anonymous —
gave their advice as if nothing could be easier.
' Chloroform the dam and take away the cub.' Perhaps
the drollest of all the suggestions was a scheme for
burning brimstone in the house until the mother should
be stupified, and then removing the calf. How the
calf was to be rendered sulphur-proof, or how the
keepers were to breathe in an atmosphere which stupi-
ftes an hippopotamus, were points which the writer did
not elucidate.

It is impossible to go behind the scenes, so to speak,
of such an establishment as the Zoological Gardens, and
to not admire the profound knowledge of beast nature —

OUR LAST HIPPOPOTAMUS. 33E)

the careful forethought, dauntless courage, and promp-
titude of action which are shown by those who have to
keep within due bounds such ferocious and powerful
brutes. It is the triumph of man's intellect over the
instinct of the beast. Here we have one of the largest,
fiercest, worst-tempered, most powerful animals on the
face of the earth utterly conquered by a few men, all of
whom it could tear to pieces if it only knew how strong
it is and how weak they are. They employ no weapons
— they use no terrorism ; and yet this dread beast is
absolutely powerless in their unarmed hands. So it is
throughout the whole system.

For example, just before the birth of the young
hippopotamus there was a very difficult business with
the polar bears. A young male — quite a child — had
been lately admitted. When he was allowed to join
the original inhabitant he behaved himself very
badly — snarling, growling, and altogether making him-
self an abominable nuisance to an elderly and quiet
bear, who only wanted to be let alone. Presently he
got into the water and swam about merrily : but after
a little time he was evidently in difficulties. He
could not get out again. His hind legs were too
short to help him, and his forepaws could not hold the
smooth stone. Moreover, his fur coat was dragging
him down. When a polar bear's coat is clean, it throws
off water like a duck's back, and the beast has a per-
fectly dry skin, though he may have been in the water
for a long time ; but if it be dirty it sucks in water

340 OUT OF DOORS.

like a sponge, so that its weight is increased three or
four fold, and is extremely embarrassing when the
animal is trying to crawl from the water up a smooth
surface. Seeing that the bear was losing both strength
and confidence, Mr. Bartlett let the water out of the
pond, and then, by means of two poles which gently
kept pressing its neck and knees, coaxed him backwards
into the cage, in which he was shut.

Next day he was again admitted to the large den,
when an amusing scene took place. So soon as he
entered the old bear opened her mouth as widely as she
could, and walked up to him, without uttering a sound.
The action was expressive, and meant this : ' Look here,
young gentleman — these are my teeth, and if you
behave to-day as you did yesterday you will get a taste
of their quality.' He took the advice, and demeaned
himself in a sober and respectful manner. Most animals
act in the same way. If, for example, a new monkey
is put into the great cage, there is a general showing of
teeth, accompanied by mutual comparison of strength
and consequent amity :

Marry, peace it bodes, and lore, and quiet life,
And awful rule, and right supremacy.

Here, as in the aquarium, there is no quarrelling for
mere malice, and, indeed, there is but little squabbling
on any account. The weaker acknowledge the power of
the stronger, and there is an end of the matter at once.

Another point that has to be kept in mind is the
extreme sensitiveness of the animals ; and it is a re-

OUR LAST HIPPOPOTAMUS. 341

markable fact that those creatures which have been born
in the Gardens are much more difficult to manage than
those which have been captured and imported. The
truth is that the latter have been inured to many
changes by reason of their travels ; whereas the former
have never seen anything but their own den or yard,
and are horribly frightened at the merest trifle to which
they are not accustomed. We believe that if one of
the lions which have been born in the Gardens were to
escape among the Sunday visitors, not a soul of them
would be half so much frightened as the lion. It is
really astonishing what a consternation is sometimes
aroused by the most trivial cause. Not long ago Mr.
Bartlett went as usual into the giraffe house. The
animals at once flew into a state of the most violent
excitement, dashed about the house, and seemed likely
to break their necks. Mr. Bartlett at once divined the
cause of their terror ; he was wearing slippers instead
of boots, and his noiseless movements struck them with
a sense of mysterious dread. They had always been
accustomed to hear as well as see a human footstep, and
the absence of noise rilled them with ungovernable
terror. So he stamped as loud as he could, spoke to
them, and they immediately calmed down.

Thus it is that the management of the Gardens is
conducted. The disposition of every animal is carefully
studied, and the keeper tries, so far as he can, to place
himself in the mental position of his charge, and to
anticipate its thoughts. Violence is never used. It

342 OUT OF DOORS.

would not only be futile at the time, but it would
destroy all hope of obtaining future obedience. As it
is, the animals find that in some mysterious manner
they are continually obeying the will of their keeper,
and they get by degrees into a habit of obedience more
or less perfect, according to the nature of the particular
species and the disposition of the individual. Know-
ledge is power here. It is equally exercised over the
largest and the smallest animals in the place ; and
whether the keeper be in charge of a harvest-mouse
which will scarcely balance a halfpenny in the scales, of
an elephant nine feet high, or an hippopotamus weigh-
ing three tons, the human intellect equally asserts itself,
and all equally acknowledge its sway.

LONDON : PEISTBD BY

8POTTI8WOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE
AMD PARLIAMENT STUKBT